Recomposing Hearts
by Shoestring Nemesis
Summary: You're not like the others, your mind's opened doors. There's something going on in that decaying little brain of yours. But you're still dead inside, even though you're cunning and smart. Because only true love can kickstart a cold dead heart. A zombie love story. Elsanna, Non-Icest, Modern/Warm Bodies AU, Zombie Apocalypse, Zombie!Anna. Cover art by the amazing ViennaOrlando.
1. Terminal of the Undead

Hi there! This is a little Frozen crossover piece with the universe and themes of the book/film Warm Bodies featuring Zombie!Anna and Elsa, plus the rest of the Frozen cast. This idea ran away with me after seeing a fantastic fanart of Anna as R from Warm Bodies by jungie14395 on Tumblr she has an account here on ffnet, go look her up for links to her tumblr and deviantart accounts because her Elsanna art is beyond incredible! This originally started out as a couple of drabbles and I'm hammering it out into a full length fic. There will be random appearances here from other Disney characters as well. Some I will name, some will just speak for themselves. Anna and Elsa will be sharing some scenes from the movie but will also be having their own adventure through this universe. There'll be some laughs and some tears, some action and some brain eating, cute awkward fluff and a tinge of angst, nasty creatures and sassy zombies. Also music, because that was one of my favorite things about the film. Many many thanks to my beta Azaria97 for being a wonderful sounding board of ideas, proofreading, also keeping my commas straight...or curved...or something, and just being an all around awesome person. Also thanks to my dear friend and creative consultant EOTWY00xx00. Head over and check out his piece Wayfaring Stranger for a truly epic and beautiful Elsanna romance/adventure.

And now go-go gadget disclaimers!

I don't own Disney's Frozen or Issac Marion's Warm Bodies  
Also do not own lyrics from "What Becomes of the Broken Hearted" by Jimmy Ruffin

Warnings: Swearing, Gore, Violence, General Zombie Grossness

Ok. Are you ready? Let's go.

* * *

_"Velkommen til Arendelle Internasjonale Flyplassen."_

"Vel..ko..mmmm."

_"Välkommen till Arendelle Internationella Flygplats."_

_"_"Vääällkkk"

_"Bienvenue à l'Aéroport International de Arendelle."_

"Biiii...eeennnnn"

_"Welcome to Arendelle International Airport."_

_"_Weelllll..."

Well shit, I give up.

_"We hope your enjoy your stay in the beautiful city of Arendelle__,__ the land of the sleepless skies and the undying crocus."_

Sleepless and undying...pfffft...I guess that's accurate.

Yeah...so...welcome to Arendelle. You'll definitely be staying a while. For dinner probably. Maybe breakfast and lunch too if you're lucky. Yeah, you'll be lucky if you get eaten. If you're not so lucky you'll just get bitten or these fools won't finish off your brain. Then you'll be waking up to walk around with the rest of us in a permanent state of hunger and restlessness. Either way, I can't say you're going to enjoy it very much.

_"The white zone is for loading and unloading of passengers only."_

"Whh...whhh...iiiiitttteeee ...zzzz...oooonnnnneeee..."

Don't worry though, I wouldn't let that happen to you. I'd like to think its because I'm merciful and kind enough not to let anyone end up like this. It's an awful, awful existence. This isn't something we signed up for and I wouldn't wish it on anyone...if I knew what wishing was. However, if I'm being completely honest, it's been a hell of a long winter and I am fucking starving. I'm sure I'd gorge on your organs, strip your bones and suck out the marrow leaving you little more than a red stain on the floor surrounded by a bit of hair and some shreds of clothing.

Actually I'm pretty sure the rest of them would too. We're all tired of just getting by on the squeaking, brown things that have ran amuck here since the snows started. Too much hair, not enough meat. Our usual prey wintered over behind the wall they resurrected around the middle of the city. Disrupts the natural order of things if you ask me. Meanwhile, we're all stuck here in an eternal layover. Truly a hell for any species.

The snows are melting though, and I imagine the humans will be stirring soon enough. It's a good thing too because I've spent way too long thinking. Too much time pondering my own existence. Too much time noticing the hopeless disconnection of everyone around me. Just look at them. They're looking up, they're looking down, they're looking straight ahead. But they're not looking at each other. The only time we move in the same direction with any unity at all is when we're hunting.

Otherwise, we're usually smacking into each other with barely a grunt of acknowledgment and that's it. We have gatherings sometimes. They're never planned, they just sort of happen. We end up in a circle of blank stares and empty faces. There'll be gestures sometimes, but only to ourselves. The rest will try and mimic it. That's the extent of our social interaction as a group. I've tried to communicate further, but it seems to be a lost cause.

Maybe its me. Maybe I'm just defective. A misfit. I mean hell, I've been riding this baggage carousel for the last four hours and no one has noticed. Not that I'm vying for attention or anything. I guess...I guess I'd just like to be noticed by someone once in a while. I notice them. They all look terrible. I mean so do I but at least I'm aware of it. I'm aware enough to know that I'm different. I just don't know if it's a good different.

My name is A by the way, and all my friends are dead.

Well, technically I only have one friend. He's still dead though...I'm dead too. We all are. Undead actually. You kinda figured that out right? Of course you did. We're the living dead, the unconsecrated, the revenants, the infected, the ghouls, the walkers. We're the poor bastards that were kicked out of hell because there was no more room.

You know...zombies.

Anyway where was I? Oh yes, my friend. He's that big, lumbering brute over there with the unmanly blondness punching holes into the wall. I'm sure he's looking for more of those little rations with the long pink handles. He's a rather resourceful and, dare I say, a more experienced zombie than most of us. Wait...no...never mind...he's just eating the dry wall. Did I mention it's been a long winter?

Regardless, he's still my friend. I guess I can call him my friend. At least...he's the only one I've found with the ability to talk like me. Or it could be that he's the only one who _will _talk to me in this place. We both can manage a couple of syllables strung together at a time. Over the course of several hours, we may even get a pretty riveting conversation going. But he usually gets frustrated and wanders off before then. Zombies aren't known for their patience.

He calls himself K. Like me, he only remembers the first letter of his name. That's pretty much all we know of ourselves. Most of it gets erased when the corpse is reborn. The brain just sort of reboots itself with only very basic functions and just enough memory to make it very frustrating as to why we can't remember anything. It's like a clean slate with a little bit of chalk residue. We don't get the memories of who we were, what we did, or who our family and friends were. You know, the important things. But we do remember certain, every day tasks that we used to do. Certain objects or actions that are buried so deep in our decayed minds that even death couldn't take them. Muscle memory.

I like looking around and trying to guess the old professions these corpses used to have. Like that guy over there that endlessly mops the floor everyday...in that exact same spot...back and forth and back and forth. I'm sure he was an excellent janitor. When he was alive, of course. These guys over here, shambling by in their three-piece suits? I bet they were some sort of corporate executives here on a business deal when everything went south. Oh, and the well dressed blonde there with the missing leg crawling across the floor? I bet she was an Olympic gold medalist in the women's ski jump. Or maybe she was a lawyer. It's hard to say.

A wayward glance over at myself is a little more mysterious...a sloppy red jacket, a baggy grey t-shirt, faded jeans, and worn out sneakers. Whatever occupation I had in life at that particular moment in time when I died, I imagine it was being magnificently unemployed. That's pretty depressing to dwell on, so let's look at someone else.

Oh! This woman here... I bet she...um...well, I have no idea what she was...except old. Oh my God, she's so_ old!_ What's holding her together? She must have been, like, a ninety-seven when she became a zombie. How on Earth did she even survive that? How the hell did she live through the winter? Does she even have teeth? How does she eat? So many wrinkles...gotta give her props for that hair though. There's a hell of a lot of body in that white, curly mane on top of her head. But she looks like she might evaporate in a cloud of dust any second. That's it. I'm going to call her patient zero. She must have started this whole mess when she rose up out of a crypt in some cemetery.

Truth is no one really knows how all of this happened. I've tried to piece things together. I've looked through all the newspapers scattered around here. Zombies can't read..so I usually just ended up chewing on the pages. Was it a parasite? A virus? An experiment gone wrong? Bio weapon? I don't know. We were alive once, and then we weren't. K insists it is a "tro...ll cur...se" which is just downright silly. I mean, I'd like to think I have a pretty good imagination for a dead girl, but that's a bit of a stretch.

"_Troll...like there's such a thing_," I think as I watch a man in a bathrobe aimlessly poke a decayed finger in a hole on his cheek and start to peel the skin off his face. Tch. You shouldn't pick at yourself. That's how you get maggots. I mean, I don't even know what a troll is, but the fact that it can distribute curses sounds way out there to me. I may be a zombie, but I'm a zombie of reason damn it.

Actually, I can't comprehend a lot that goes through my head even though I have a fairly expansive vocabulary, as you can see. The thought is there, the understanding is well, not always. It's all trapped behind this wall of… I don't know… being dead, I guess. There's all these holes and gaps. I guess you could think of the average zombie brain as being squishy wheels of super holey Swiss cheese. What is Swiss cheese? I don't fucking know! I just know it comes in wheels and is full of holes. Do you see how frustrating this is? It's not all a total loss though. We can fill some of the voids when we eat the brains of the living.

More on that later, I'm a little too caught up in my existential crisis at the moment.

What is our purpose here? I mean, is this all there is? Is it all just walking, moaning, and ripping apart the living to feast on their entrails? Don't get me wrong, I love to hunt and I love to kill. But times like now, I think... there's just got to be more. I want to feel again. I want to _connect_. Why can't we connect anymore? Why do I feel so...lonely? Why am I feeling at all? I'm pretty sure mindless killing machines aren't supposed to feel anything outside of the insatiable hunger that drives us to the point of madness...much less feel lonely. Especially when they're in a room full of their own kind. But I do. I wonder if anyone else does. I'd ask K, but I'm sure he'd just get grumpy with me. He doesn't like that sort of discussion.

And let's face it...he always gets grumpy with me. I'm chatty...I can't help it.

I wonder if I have a family out there somewhere. Maybe they're alive behind the wall. I wonder if they miss me. I imagine I would miss them too if I had any memory of them. For all I know, they're here somewhere shuffling along in their daily commute, moaning and groaning about their hunger and wouldn't know me if they knocked me down, tripped over me, and stepped on my face.

Hell, maybe I ate them. I don't remember eating them, but there isn't a lot to be said about zombies and long-term memory. Or short-term memory for that matter. Our attention spans are very, very brief if it doesn't involve rending a live, screaming body into fun-size pieces. I have no idea what I did yesterday...or the day before. Time just seems to meld together into one endless walk with meals in between.

I finally rise from my slumped position on the moving conveyor with all the grace the afterlife has bestowed on me. The airport spins forward as the floor rises up to meet me with a loud smack. My groan is muffled as I try to peel my face from the tile. The first thing I see when I push myself up on my hands is two sets of feet. Small feet. One set is bare and covered in dead blood and filth, the other barely a step above with pale lifeless toes poking out from straps of cloth holding on to flat bottoms. Are those shoes? How do they stay on?

My eyes move up to meet the blank stares of two young kids. Dead kids. Zombie children. We apparently come in pint sized. This fact probably should disturb me on some level, but it doesn't. I'm more bewildered by the fact that they've stopped to look at me, to notice me. Of course, I did just face plant in front of them, but I'm not going to concern myself with details.

"Hhh...Hhh...Hiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii."

That's my icebreaker. Nailed it.

They make no motion of acknowledgment and now I'm not sure if they're looking at me, or looking through me. The little girl in the red dress with the white leaf print is unmoving with dark hair falling over her face. The boy next to her is hidden underneath a blue hoodie with the letters O-H-A-N-A scrawled across his chest. I can't see any more of him save for the glint from two dark glowing eyes. I move closer in my prostrate position trying to assure them of my humble intentions. I have no idea what proper zombie submission etiquette is. I'm pretty sure they don't either. I'm just gonna wing it.

There's a deep gurgle from the boy and I think finally I've made contact. His lips begin to part. Surely he's about to speak or at the very least acknowledge me with a grunt? The answer to that question comes as he proceeds to vomit black sludge all over himself, the floor, and me. Something splats in the center of the puddle surrounding my knees as it exits his mouth with the rest of his stomach contents.

I'm not exactly sure if this is flat out rejection of my social endeavor or nerves, but seeing as how neither of those are a thing in zombie culture, I'm just gonna go with 'he had to barf'. I wipe the bile from my face as he takes a side step closer to the girl. Perhaps they had a connection with each other. They could have been friends, maybe even family. It could be that our world might not be so black and white and covered in vomit. Maybe there was hope for something more. I reach out with dripping hands and pull theirs together. The contact is enough to bring both sets of dead eyes to settle on the union I had made. They were so young. They shouldn't be alone.

"Sssss...taaayyyy to...geth...errrrr," I tell them and release their hands. "K-ke..ep...y-youu...s...affee."

I look for any sort of understanding in their vacant stares but they reveal none as they proceed to shuffle past me. Though not before the boy pauses and plucks the long regurgitated hairy snack handle from my shoulder and shoves it back into his mouth. So that probably went okay. I mean, it could have been a lot worse...I guess. That's the thought I have anyway as I try to brush the undead puke off my jacket in vain.

There's a shiny glint that catches my eye in the pool of black ichor in front of me. I reach and pull whatever it is from it's slimy burial mound. It's smooth...round...no wait! I wipe it off on my jeans. Four corners. A rectangle! A shiny rectangle! This might just be the best day ever! I bring it to my face as my fingers trace the lines eagerly. When my fingertip glides across a top corner, it breaks apart with a metallic click.

Well shit. So much for best day ever.

It has insides...guts...I hold it close to my nose and determine its definitely not edible. Well...I mean, obviously it must have been edible for the kid, but it appears to be lacking in living tissue and nourishment. I'm about to give it up for a lost cause when my thumb rolls over a ridged wheel, releasing an orange flame to assault my nostrils. I make a noise somewhere between a snort and a growl as I fall backwards on my butt in front of the tiny inferno. It's fire...I know fire. I hold my free hand close to it, letting my fingers run through the dancing light. Something...some basic instinct inside of me remembers fire. It remembers how it burns. How it used to be...warm.

But I feel nothing now, staring absently while the flame darkens the dead skin on the palm of my hand. I shake the rectangle in frustration, and it snaps back together snuffing out the burning force inside. I'll keep it with me so I can add it to my collection I decide, bringing myself to my feet with some difficulty. I need to get back to my plane, back to my treasures, back to my music.

My vision tunnels on my destination as I make my way back through the gate towards the runway. K looks up from his digging and hole punching to acknowledge me for the first time today.

"A...," He begins slowly as I pass by. I think he sees the determination in my dull gaze. "Whee..rree...go..oing?"

"H-h..ommee," I reply, pausing long enough to offer him a sideways glance over my shoulder.

* * *

The night winds are blowing cool and steady when I step out onto the tarmac. At least, that's how I imagine them to be. I can only see how it picks up the stray strands of hair around my face. It's strange how I'm even noticing this. Strange how I'm actually looking up at the stars, watching them shimmer from a distance. And I can't even begin to comprehend the glowing ribbons of green light that swim beneath them. It really is beautiful...why have I never paid attention?

Suddenly, a familiar scent blown toward me on the wind caresses my nose and melancholy emotions immediately give way to a deeply rooted primal need. A sound somewhere between a moan and a growl erupts from my lips as coherency is replaced by insatiable hunger.

There's prey nearby.

The sweet stench of fear and the distinct odor of a living counterpart is almost overpowering. After months of waiting, I would finally get a kill. Not only that, but there was no one else around. I would have it all to myself. Zombies are rather possessive creatures if I'm being honest. We don't like to share if its not necessary. We're usually too busy with the rending and eating though to fight amongst ourselves.

I shuffle as quietly as possible following the scent leading me towards an overturned baggage car. I'm not made for stealth, but I have to keep the dragging feet and the random moaning in check if I want this hunt to be successful. Overpowering by sheer numbers isn't an option out here, and if dinner decides to run...well I'm pretty much out of luck.

I'm close enough now that I can hear their ragged breathing somewhere behind one of the trailers. The fact that they weren't making a mad dash for it was very reassuring for my sloppy stalking skills. The lights in the sky provide enough illumination for me to make out a silhouette crouched between the wheels. I have visual confirmation of my target. It's male. That's fine. I have no gender preference when it comes to food.

Now, as long as I don't trip and fall in typical "me" fashion, I would soon be feeling that hot rush of blood surging down my throat and coating my insides. The heat of living blood and tissue is the only warmth I know. There's nothing to feel on the outside. Inside however, there is the briefest rush of heat when I close my mouth around a living thing and it feels like that geyser of blood is pouring to every extremity, washing away all the dead inside me. That's all metaphorical though...or something. I don't know. I'm a zombie. I'm terrible at metaphors. That rush though, it's definitely only second to the rush you get from eating brains.

A tendril of drool oozes from the corner of my mouth and flutters in the wind. There's a vibration at the base of my skull filling my ears with a low hum that drowns out every sound save for the one of labored breathing that I've honed in on. A scent wafts into my nostrils and I realize this prey is injured. Even better. The world turns red and I prepare to push everything I have into rushing this human. I'm close enough now that I can make out the rolled whites of his eyes while he's staring in the opposite direction. I definitely had the element of surprise going for me and I needed to remind myself not to go for a stray leg or arm.

Go for the throat, smash their head against the ground to immobilize him as quickly as possible. K taught me that. The roar of the charge builds up in my throat and I push my feet into the ground. Time slows as I begin to bolt. There's absolutely nothing in between me and this entree pinned under this vehicle until he turns and locks his gaze with mine. For some reason the sound of his voice is enough to stop me in my tracks.

"H-help me...please."

I feel my head begin to tilt on its own in my confusion. Help you? Dude...I'm going to _eat_ you.

I mean that damn it. Don't just take my standing here all stunned as any motive to the contrary. Maybe he doesn't recognize what I am in this light. I begin moaning and shuffling towards him so he can make no mistake about it. I, on the other hand, just made a huge one. What the hell is wrong with me?

"P-please. Please help me. I-it's coming. I d-don't want to..." His hushed voice trails off in a series of shallow breaths.

Okay, never mind me. What the hell is wrong with him?

A creature steps out from the other side of the wreckage to provide an answer to that question. Now concepts of size elude me...too big to eat means I don't pay attention, too small usually means too difficult to chase. Pro and con...when applied to meals, it just makes sense.

But this thing...I have no way of categorizing it, even in my own, simplistic fashion. It moves on four legs instead of two. Legs that are bigger, longer, and stronger than mine. I can see exposed muscles and sinew, bones jutting out through gaping holes in its body. Its neck and back are covered in burnt hair like fire had tried to eat away its hide. The tail I can't make much sense of-mostly because I can't conceive of something called a 'tail'-but it is long, spiky, matted in places. It makes the whole thing seem too long to be able to move with any speed.

But the teeth...I know them well. They are just like mine. Broken, jagged, and covered in something red and human-smelling… And there are far more of them than I have. Two rows, sharp and menacing, hidden behind shredded lips and a mutilated tongue. Even before the pungent smell blows in my direction, I know the thing is dead, yet living.

Like me.

It takes its focus off the human for a moment and points its head in my direction, seemingly aware of my presence for the first time.

This is the moment I take back that earlier desire to be noticed by someone...

There's a loud snort and a wheezing sound as the creature sucks in the air through its nose. It pauses for a long moment before its split lips peel further up over its large teeth. Now I'm better at recognizing basic facial expressions than doing them myself. Zombies don't have a need for them. We only have our rage face and our catatonic face.

And yet, I'm pretty sure this thing is grinning at me right now.

I can't do anything but stare blankly as it covers the distance between us in two long strides. The saliva dripping from its jaws makes a hissing sound as it smacks steadily against the pavement. The human is already screaming and dragging its legs in my direction. I'd never thought I would see the day I lost interest in a meal, but I daresay this towering presence has gained my full attention.

A growl reverberates deep inside its chest that shakes the very ground beneath us. I finally break my gaze from the thing as something tight clamps around my ankle. The prey is still screaming and trying to pull himself towards me. The stench of fear is so thick in the air it should have already driven me into a feeding frenzy. But in this split second I find myself extending my hand to this wide-eyed, panicked, food item that is pleading for help. I can't comprehend why. Maybe its so I can eat him later. Or maybe...maybe I want to save him from the fate that is looming over both of us.

He sees my hand and reaches further. Fingertips barely make contact with my own before he's ripped away with a wet crunch and a choked wail. He's finished in a shower of blood, a cut off cry, and a lick of a thick tongue over the creature's lips. There's absolutely nothing left of him...save for the head that rolls haplessly to my feet.

Oh well. I shouldn't let that go to waste.

I reach down, curling my fingers into the slick, wet hair. A blunt force sends me flying backwards. The stars come into my view again as I greet the hard pavement with the flat of my back.

That view is suddenly darkened by the dripping maw that hangs over me. I watch as it's mouth stretches impossibly wide again. This might actually be a good time for me to express my fear of this thing. Only, I don't have any. I have no concept of that emotion. I might be able to smell it, even taste it on my tongue sometimes, but I lack the cognitive function to feel it. My only instinct right now is to stake my claim on this scrap of food and be done with it.

So I tighten my grip, bare _my_ teeth and scream at the creature with all of the vehemence I can muster. It's enough to make it's lips slip back over those glistening daggers and, for a moment, I think I've claimed my prize.

Until a large foot presses down on the center of my chest and pins me against the ground. There's a crunching sound as some of my ribs snap beneath its weight. Long claws tear into my shirt when the head looms closer now and, for the first time, I get a good look into the hollows of its eyes. There's a yellow glow nestled deep in the empty sockets. They burn like the fire that sprouted from the shiny rectangle in the airport. Only the fire isn't flickering. It's swirling like two raging infernos and they are boring into my skull, daring me to make another move. It spares a moments glance at the human's head before it turns back to me and shows its teeth again. I'm not sure what it is that makes me give in and surrender, but something in my brain tells me that this is a fight I'm not going to win. My grip loosens, though I refuse to look away from the creature. I may be surrendering, but I refuse to submit.

Casually, it reaches over, delicately plucking it from my hand and using its tongue to roll it into a secure position between its teeth. The jaws barely close before the skull cracks and explodes inside its mouth. I'm hit with another spray of blood as I'm forced to listen to the sounds of its smacking lips as it devours every last morsel. I can see the tendons and muscles working in its exposed neck as it swallows. There isn't one shred of food left now, and if I didn't think that there wasn't going to be a shred of me left after this I might have been pretty pissed off about it.

With a final lick of its revolting tongue, it focuses its attention back to me. There's another growl that rumbles deep in its throat before it unleashes a deafening roar that explodes in my ears while the force of its rotting breath barrels down on me. Putrid phlegm lands against my face and neck. The creature leans in closer, teeth nearly touching my neck. As I look into the spiraling chaos of its eyes, a single unspoken word echoes in my ears.

"_Min__e__!_"

Wait, what? Who said that? Did...did that thing just speak to me? It felt like… like it was inside my head somehow. There are no voices allowed in my head besides my own damn it! The word repeats itself again. It feels like something is crawling inside my ear and burrowing into my brain.

"_Mine_."

A chorus of wailing sounds from far away build in intensity and cut through the night air around us. The creature perks up at the noise. Its massive head lifts to look over its shoulder. It glances back at me and presses its weight down onto my chest again, once more issuing another crack of protest from one of my ribs. The crooked teeth clack together just inches above my face and, with one final threatening look and an authoritative snort, it steps off of me and vanishes into the dark.

Well today has certainly been...different.

This is what I wanted though right?

I'm pretty sure this whole series of events has ruined me from wanting more out of life ever again.

With some effort, I manage to roll over and push myself up on my hands and knees. Something wet squishes beneath my palm. I close my fist around it and bring it to my nose for inspection. A small chunk of human brain lies draped over my fingertips. Looks like big and bony missed a crumb. A soft groan gurgles up from my throat as I think that maybe this day might be saved after all.

I slip it into my jacket pocket for future enjoyment as I stumble to my feet and begin my slow shuffle towards home. My home is an airplane. A small jet, an Embraer 170 to be exact. How do I know? Well... I ate the pilot. As I mentioned before, human brains help fill the empty voids in our heads. They're our tools for learning objects, mechanics, sights, and sounds. I can touch things around the plane and the airport and trigger his memories to absorb his knowledge of the things he was familiar with. I even know some things about aviation. I could probably fly the thing if I had any sort of hand-eye coordination.

But rest assured I do not.

Perhaps the best thing about eating them is those few blissful moments when I see what it was like to be alive...to feel alive through their memories. The brain is full of memories and emotions. Proof of a life that has been lived. I never sleep, and even if I could, the dead don't dream. Eating a brain is like dreaming, and for a few fleeting moments, I'm human again. Its a small glimpse of the world through someone else's eyes. Its not always happy. Sometimes its angry. Sometimes its sad. It doesn't matter though, because it's the closest I will ever be to living again.

I finally make it up the last step of the staircase to the entrance and open the hatch. This is the first time I've managed to get up here since the snows stopped. I fumble around until I find the switch on the panel that turns on the lights. They flicker and hum as the cabin dimly brightens in front of me. Everything looks just the way I left it. I drag my feet to the back of the plane where I keep all of my treasures. I pull the shiny rectangle from my pocket and drop it in a small box that sits under a makeshift table I made of broken seats. On top of the seats rests my most prized possession. A record player. I can't really remember how it came to me, or where I got it, but I don't really care about that. Though I do wonder sometimes how I even know what music is. I recognize the instruments and I know the different sounds they make. Did I eat someone for that or was it pushed out of the undead womb already with me?

I have no idea.

Mostly I just know that I like it, and even if I can't connect to anyone around me, there's some part of me that connects with it.

I flip the switch on the turntable and move the needle to the groove of the record that's already on it before I make my way back down the aisle to slump into a vacant seat. The ceiling comes into view as I press a button to recline back. Then the music begins to play.

_"As I walk this land of broken dreams,"_

My fingers wrap around the small hunk in my pocket in anticipation. I hope whatever memory that's hidden in there was worth the work. I finally bring it up to my mouth.

_"I have visions of many things."_

I close my eyes as it slips passed my lips and I begin to chew. The first sensation I feel is a flash of light and a series of colors, unfamiliar sounds, and scents.

"_But happiness is just an illusion."_

This all comes to a screeching halt as I begin to fill with feelings of pain, horror, and grief._ The teeth inside of a giant mouth crushes my bones and rips my limbs away from my body, while a massive tongue pushes me down a ragged gullet. Blood fills my lungs and I'm drowning in a pool of my own shredded organs, swirling endlessly into a black pit void of all hope. A monster. I'm being eaten by a monster._

_"Filled with sadness and confusion."_

I hurl myself up from the chair in a choking fit, spitting the remnants out onto the floor. Well that was definitely a memory I could have done without. What's a monster? I need to tell K about that thing tomorrow...if I don't forget.

_"What becomes of the brokenhearted,"_

_ "Who had love that's now departed?"_

"_I know I've got to find."  
_

"_Some kind of peace of mind."_

_ "Maybe."_

Maybe I should leave out the part where I actually tried to help my food.


	2. Killer Queen

A/N: Welcome to chapter 2 my friends. The following ride may be a bit chaotic and confusing but it's meant to be. There's some new players joining the ranks and we'll be learning how they got there in the next chapter when A takes a walk down memory lane...or rather eats it. Until then, enjoy their witty banter because it was a hell of a lot of fun to write and we will learn more about them later. I had hoped for awkward meetup Elsanna in this chapter but it was not meant to be. They almost did though..and definitely will next chapter! But don't let that stop you from enjoying the build up and watch K toss a guy and A battle stairs because stairs suck for zombies. And also watch her become hopelessly smitten for youknowwho. Thank you all so much for the reviews, favorites and follows I appreciate every single one! As always so much thanks to my beta Azaria97 for keeping my words on the level in this zombie adventure while always helping me springboard ideas as well as EOTW00xx00 who makes a brilliant creative consultant! Go read their stuff when you get a chance! You'll be happy and content in elsannirvana if you do! And a WARNING before I go: This chapter gets pretty graphic with the gore. Also apocalypse survivors cuss a lot...as do zombies apparently. Hmm...anyway! Thanks again for reading!

I don't own Frozen or its characters. Nor the poor Disney characters I have dumped into the zombie apocalypse for fun and zero profit.

* * *

The night fades away and takes the stars and my memory with it. By the time I come to my 'sort of' senses again, I find myself staring blankly at the undersides of the seats across the aisle of the plane, curled up beneath a hissing record player long run out of music. Bones creak and groan in protest as I pull myself up into a semi-upright position. Vertebrae pop into place along my spine and up through my neck when I reach up to push my jaw back into place. Orange light beams through the thick grime on the windows, and I fumble blindly to return the needle of the record player to its resting place. With everything back in place, I begin my stumbling shuffle back into zombie society. I look down through the emergency exit of the plane and greet my sworn enemy: stairs.

Okay...you can do this. You were born ready.

Here's the first step.

Good. Made it.

And another.

Success!

Alright, next. Easy does it now.

Lift your foot. Let it down slowly.

Don't let it drag.

Lift it up. Up! Up!

No..no that's too high! You're gonna miss it!

You missed!

YOUMISSEDYOUMISSEDYOUMISSED!

Ooof...

Hello pavement...my old friend.

Damn it.

Another day, just like the rest. At least most of my face is still intact...for now.

Picking myself up once again, I've already forgotten what it was that I needed to tell K. Or the fact that I was going to tell him anything at all for that matter. I don't even recall why my clothes hang off my frame heavier, or why they're covered in dirt. Also, I don't particularly remember how my shirt got its new set of holes.

I don't like holes.

My feet drag against the ground, trailing tattered shoe laces through the puddles of snowmelt that cover the tarmac. The climb up the stairs to the terminal is better. Going up is always easier than going down. I pass through the rattling doors that always retreat in my presence and stumble through the corridor to the gate exit. Once on the other side, I take in the view of the inhabitants of this place. They're pretty much exactly how I left them...moaning, groaning, drooling, and shuffling in an endless loop. It's the party that never ends.

What a bunch of stiffs.

K stumbles up beside me and greets me like usual, with a rough shove to the shoulder. My muscle memory has prepared me over time for this specific movement, so I no longer end up flat on the floor. Much to his displeasure, I think.

"Uhhhhhh," He grunts as a greeting.

"Mmmmph," I respond as I turn and crane my neck to acknowledge him.

Suddenly, I find myself under the scrutiny of his glazed, pale eyes. A large finger crookedly points at my shirt. "Whuh...h-hap..pened?

I glance down at the current state of my attire before returning a simple, honest answer.

"Uhhh nuhhh," I tell him with a shrug.

"L-loook ...terrr..rible."

"Y-you...onee...t-to...taa..lk."

K's former life is a mystery to me. I can't tell you what he used to do for a living, but he's dressed like he is ready to battle the harshest of elements in his layered shirts, ripped, dark-gray coat, and black, denim pants tucked into heavy tread boots. I'm pretty sure whatever he did, it was cold where he did it. Or maybe he was even more majestically unemployed than I was, and just needed to keep warm when he was human. I'm guessing he likes the cold. Or at least the idea of it. The fact that he lives in a walk-in freezer at the food court attests to this fact. I don't think it runs anymore, but K insists the cold slows the decaying process. And I guess that's pretty sound logic for a dead guy.

He definitely has a knack for this living corpse thing. I mean we're all pretty dumb by default, but I will give him _some_ credit. I think his interaction with me has kept me alive for this long, though I would never say that to his face. So even through the uncertainty of our friendship status or even the ability of our kind to have friendships, there is that. 'He has taught me valuable skills,' I think as I watch him shove a finger up his nose, pull it back out to look at it, and then put it in his mouth.

That is definitely not one of those skills.

He's about to dig out a second helping of whatever it is that's stuck up there but stops, tilts his head back, and pauses for a long moment. Just when I think he's gone catatonic, he looks back at me as those same pale eyes grow large and dark.

"It's...h-here.."

"Whaaa?"

"F-foood." That word sticks and my gut rumbles restlessly. K tilts further back this time, moving his head from side to side and pulling air through to make certain. If he is fucking with me right now, I swear I will rip his arms off and beat him death with them...I will...re-death him...or something.

A sporadic bout of gunfire follows a distant rumbling crash that echoes through the air and its enough to stop every zombie dead in their tracks. Our head turns in the direction the adjacent terminal with one united movement.

I look back at K as his lips pull away from yellowed decayed teeth in a snarl.

"H-hunnnt...eeaatt."

* * *

Thick clouds of dust roll through the long corridor making it nearly impossible to see and avoid random pieces of rubble strewn along the floor. We shuffle down the walkway with littered seats and suitcases towards the end of the terminal where the loud noise came from. Normally we don't hang out on this side of the airport anymore, due to the fact that the ceiling tends to fall on us at random. Its pretty embarrassing even for a zombie to be killed again by a dilapidated building. Hard to live that down, I'd imagine.

The newer zombies move quicker than the older, partly disintegrated ones. That still isn't saying much, but hey, when you're hungry, you want first dibs to keep away from rotting as long as you can. I sense that there are more of us than of them, its gonna be a tight spread to go around, so I try to pick up my pace while struggling not to trip. My eyes are useless because of all the dust, but my nose and ears are drawn towards the source of the scents and the sounds of struggle, fear, and panic.

"Is everyone alright? Is anyone hurt?"

"Eugene ya daft kraut! What the hell did ye do?"

"Firstly! This is no time to be throwing derogatory terms at me Lesbo MacGinger! Secondly—"

"Lesbo Mac...? Oh, that's it then! Congratulations schnitzel boy! You've just won a date with Mo'dur! No? Aww c'mon...Ariel, love...let go...I want ta shoot him! Just one knee I swear!"

"You are so whipped Merida."

"Elsa? Elsa, where are you?"

"Pheobus?"

"Aye! I'm alright, sir!"

"Secondly! Secondly! There was a fucking live zombie pinned underneath the rubble over there. It grabbed my ankle… and I fell… The gun went off, it hit the ceiling, the ceiling collapsed. I killed the ceiling, okay? Are we caught up now? Because it's not like I just shot at it for shits and giggles! Thirdly! No one calls me Eugene except for—"

"Oh so you shite yer pants and blew yer load did ye? Awww… poor wee lamb."

"Fitzherbert! Dunbroch! Shut the hell up for two seconds! Do any of you know where Elsa is?"

"No sir!"

"Elsa! Can you hear me?"

"Here! I'm over here! I'm okay! It's just that Sven's stuck and I can't get him out!"

"Hang on! I'm coming!"

Our hunting party circles them quietly, following K's lead to wait until the right moment to rush them.

"There you go. Good boy...you're okay."

Immediately, the air is filled with a growling that's not from our ranks, and a high-pitched yelping. I can't remember humans ever making that noise.

"Well, it looks like we're not leaving the way we came in. We're going to have to head forward. Elsa are you sure these monsters are frozen? Hibernating or whatever?"

"They should be. Without a steady food source, the cold temperatures tend to reduce them to a state of suspended animation. Then again, maybe they're all like the ones we saw outside… just dead."

"Well, the one that grabbed me was certainly alive!"

"I doubt it's still awake with half the ceiling on top of it."

"Still, we shouldn't be here. This wasn't the mission, Hans. We aren't equipped to handle a hive."

"Look, this place was completely deserted when we came in. They're probably just as dead as the ones outside. We'll just take it slow through here. Maybe we can find some food and supplies to take back with us, get Ariel up to the flight control tower to do her thing, and return to the city as heroes."

"Or zombies…."

"Oi! Shut it, Eugene!"

"Flynn! It's Flynn goddammit! And hey, what's with all the dust? I can't see shit! Is this asbestos? Oh God… mesothelioma… I knew that's how I was gonna go out."

"Pheobus, you still have those flares?"

"Ariel don't fidget so! You know I can't understand you when you babble with your hands like that!"

"On it Sir! Lighting one up now!"

"Oh bollocks! Hans, we're picking up movement on the motion tracker! I think we got company comin'!"

A bright flash of red illuminates the terminal, and one of the humans is holding a stick, of what I assume is fire, just inches away from K's nose. The human is too busy yelling at the shrill noise (that I also assume is the cause of my sudden eye twitch) to notice.

"Sven! Will you pipe down? You're making enough ruckus to wake—"

He turns back around.

"The dead... Oh shit..."

K roars hoarsely and grabs the human by the throat, choking off its scream. He lifts the body effortlessly with one large hand and throws it towards the ground. The rest of the dead are already tearing into it before it even makes contact with the floor. The sweet, delicious smell of fresh blood fills my nostrils as the sounds of ripping flesh and snapping bones serenades my ears before I'm knocked down on my back in the frenzy of moving bodies. I do my best to flip over and get back on my hands and knees to avoid being trampled. Suddenly, the air is echoing with loud cracks and bursts of light igniting the fog around us. A hairy, slobbering blur moving on four legs barrels straight towards me and leaps over my head into the fray. Somewhere behind me, I hear K snarling and grappling with the thing. My hunger outweighs 'friendship' however, and I continue my crawl towards the sporadic flames.

"Hurry! Climb the rubble! Get to higher ground!"

"There's more coming!"

"Get behind me darlin'! Mor'du is about to wax poetic on these bastards!"

"We need to push them back! Flynn!"

"On it! Frag out!"

Something metallic bounces by me with a plink before a blast and blinding flash of light sends me flying through the air with an entourage of assorted body parts with me. All of us slam into the wall and a high pitched ringing fills my ears. I hit the ground with a thump in a daze. I'm not overly thrilled to have my face acquainted with the floor again so soon. When I finally right myself from this ridiculously common occurrence, everything stops. The screaming, the growling, the tearing and chewing, the earsplitting blasts of fire, all of it stops. The fresh blood, the dead blood, the bodies falling everywhere around me, and whatever it is that lives in those sparks is whistling by my ears, blowing my hair back, and maybe even burrowing into my body, all just falls away. Everything is frozen, and all I see is her.

"I'm out! Throw me a mag, Merida!"

"Shite! I missed!"

"Elsa! Watch your nine!"

She's standing on a mountain of wreckage with just enough light falling from the open ceiling to ignite a glow in her nearly white hair that lights up her entire face. She's ethereal, otherworldly, a celestial being. I can't even comprehend those words, but I do know she's the most beautiful being to ever step foot into this bleak world.

Even if she is categorized as food.

"Your left!"

If I had breath, I wouldn't be able to catch it.

She doesn't noticed me as I slowly come to my feet just a few drags and shuffles away. Oh, but I notice her. I notice all of her. I see the hard steel of her blue eyes as she aims the killing machine at dead targets. I watch a slick black hand pull back on a shaft of metal with every blast. At this point, I can say that I've eaten enough brains to understand the concept of guns, and what they're capable of.

They make holes.

As I've mentioned before, I don't like them. Holes are bad. We rot faster with holes in our body. They ooze festering, black blood and let maggots burrow in to eat away at us from the inside. And when those holes blast through our skulls and push our brains out the back, thats it. That's the end of our existence. I should probably be mortified that she's up there blowing out the brains of my kinsmen, but she's making it look like art.

From the way she's holding herself, jaw set, feet planted, killing thing firing away, she looks like she owns every crumbled piece of stone beneath her. She rules every movement of her body as she jerks back from the raw power that's nestled in her arms. I'm entranced by the way her thick braid of hair thumps her shoulder almost rhythmically. Even through all of the chaos, I can hear her. I can hear the fabric of the black vest she's wearing slide against the form-fitting blue shirt beneath. It matches the color of her eyes and outlines every tensing muscle. Her hands are covered with something I don't recognize. A seamless second layer of black skin contrasts against her pale wrists. Dark pants form around the curves of her hips and pour down the toned lengths of her thighs.

There's a small rope around her neck that shimmers and shines with every movement. A strange shape that hangs off the end sits flat against her chest. It was so...unique. Three long sparkling branches reach out from the jeweled middle in different directions pointing right. Its beautiful, but half broken and incomplete.

I have no idea I am propelling myself forward while I take in the vision before me. Before I even realize it, I've already gotten close enough to reach out and touch her, and I want to. Not the way I normally touch my food, but the way I touch my records with the greatest of care. I want to talk to her. I want to know everything there is to know about her. I want to connect. It's strange. I look at her and I'm not… I'm not even hungry anymore.

"Elsa! Get down!"

In one swift movement, she's shoved backwards off her mountain, disappearing from my view with a scream. Before I even have a chance to help her, a force slams into my chest and knocks me to the ground.

This seems...familiar.

And I'm on the flat of my back again as the monster… no… a human looms over me, pinning me to the floor. His green eyes burn through me as he breathes through clenched teeth. This redhead entree has certainly caught me off guard, but I'm mostly annoyed by the fact that he interrupted a very important discovery.

"You will not lay one goddamned finger on her! Do you understand me, _monster_?" He shoves his palm up underneath my chin and pulls a knife with the other.

"Look at you. You don't understand a fucking thing do you, you miserable creature?"

A gurgle escapes my throat as he presses his blade against my face. I see a similar rope with the same strange shape dangling from his exposed throat. Only this one's branches spread in the left direction. This must be the other half of the one the girl was wearing. I want it.

"Well maybe you can hear this before I sever the head from your neck...

"She's mine!"

_Mine._

The word triggers a memory of the giant thing on the tarmac. I remember the way it had taken everything away from me with that one word echoing in my head. If that was what a monster was, then I would show him a monster.

I wrench my arm free from beneath his weight and grip his neck with my hand. I dig my fingers into his jugular, tearing the vein open as hot blood pours from the new holes peppering his neck. Now these sort of holes, I definitely like. He stares wide-eyed, gasping and sputtering in surprise as the knife clatters against the floor beside my head. I grab his shoulder and push him over and underneath me.

I straddle this particularly miserable creature when our places effectively reversed, allowing myself a moment to gloat into his terrified eyes as he chokes on his own blood and fears me like the good prey he is. I rip the rope away from his bloody, torn throat before lowering my lips next to his ear to whisper…

"Mine."

And with a roar, I splay my fingers across his face, curling them in a tight grip to lift his head and smash it against the floor. His body begins to convulse beneath me as I slam his skull down over and over in a mindless rage. Blood soaks my hand and splatters against me and everything around us. Wheezing gurgles and convulsions subside into slight twitches and tremors as the life slips away from him.

I don't stop.

There are other zombies coming to join me now. They drop to their knees and begin tearing and pulling apart my kill. His head is little more than a crushed pulp of flesh, blood, and bone underneath my palm. When it sinks past the ruins of his face, my fingers latch on to something very familiar.

The vibration at the base of my skull is back and coursing down the length of my spine. My tongue slides out over my lips instinctively. Perhaps I am hungry after all.


	3. One Way to Pompeii

A/N: Sorry for the slight delay passengers. But here is chapter 3 for your in-flight reading pleasure! As always thank you to my wonderful beta Azaria97 for all her awetastic awesomeness and late nights of giggling like 12-year-olds at a slumber party! Also, I give all the blame to EOTWY00xx00 for giving me the idea for the guncrazy!Merida x mute!Ariel pairing...at first I was skeptical..then I started writing them. And now I ship them so hard. After this story is finished I might like to go back and do some ficlets with the other characters in this universe. We shall see! Oh also, to answer concerns about possible Helsa in this tale I would just like to offer some reassurance that not everyone or everything is as it seems. Lastly thank you all so so much again for the reviews, the follows and the favorites! Now then lets go see how **not** to pick up a girl in the zombie apocalypse.

* * *

Brains are rather delicate organs. It requires a certain discernment, a certain finesse to remove one fully intact from its floating subspace inside the skull and detach it from the spinal cord. I have neither of these as I reach in and scoop out a handful of the pulpous matter. It oozes out from between my fingers when I close my fist around it and tear away my trophy, skull fragments and all. The others have already ripped open the belly to feast on the intestines. I've never really understood why that's the first place we tend to gravitate towards. I mean… there are definitely tastier pieces of meat to consider on a fresh kill. I guess it's because it's the easiest place to access after you tear through the layers of skin, fat, and muscle. And, well, there's a lot of all looped up inside the human body… and I mean a lot. I've seen vicious tug-of-war battles for these things stretching through almost half of a terminal.

I have all I want from this carcass though, so they can pick apart the rest and scatter it from here to the humans' wall for all I care. _"This… Mine,_" I vow as I glance at the broken shiny rope in one hand and the chunk of brain in the other. I'm only vaguely aware of the madness that continues on around me as I stand up in the thick sea of corpses. I shove my way out of the whirling madness of explosions, shrill whistles piercing the air, and thuds of impact into dead flesh and the surrounding walls. I take refuge beneath a large section of crumbled stone and twisted metal, admiring my prize once more. I hold up the glittering rope with the strange trinket dangling from it at eye level and watch in satisfaction as blood drips off of it before tucking it away in my jacket pocket.

With both hands free, I cup the remains of my victory and bring it to my eager lips. Something about eating this part of him is special. I feel accomplished. Not only have I taken his life, but I've taken his memories too. Well, as much of them as I could carry anyway. The nerve of that prey! Throwing _me_ to the ground, threatening _me, _calling _me _a monster when I was only trying to… um… wait… what was I doing again? Something important… damn it…damn this swiss cheese zombie brain of mine.

Oh well. Down the hatch anyway.

The first bite of a human brain is always the strangest. Before I can see images, or the playbacks, before I get to feel what it's like to live again, there's darkness… and silence. The organ is crushed easily between my teeth and the world around me vanishes. Suddenly, there is nothing. Long moments pass before sounds and voices begin to filter through my ears with the same cracks, pops, and skips of a worn-out record. Slowly, they begin to lose their distortion.

_"N...ow th..en he...re is th...e in..tr..ance t..o t..he fli..gh..t con..t..rol t..ower. I c..an spa..re yo..u three more soldiers to assist in escorting Ms. Morgan, no more. Our ranks are thin enough as it is."_

_"I understand Sir," _I hear my own voice cut in. Well not my voice, the voice behind the brains I just ate.

_"Once there, she will do what is necessary to get the airport's mainframe back online. I cannot stress the importance of getting this airport back under our control, Captain Westergard. There's a high concentration of fuel still there. And once repairs are underway, it could be our only means to escape this infestation," _The other voice is rougher, deeper and older than my own...kinda bossy too...like K.

_"Is there word from any of the expeditions travelling over the North Mountain, Sir?" _ Something tells me I'm asking questions I already know the answer to.

_"No, nothing. I have no choice but to give them up for dead. The elements on the mountain are unforgiving, and I am wasting good men by continuing to attempt to forge a way out in that direction. The citizens won't survive another winter behind this wall. We cannot afford to wait out these vicious corpses any longer. We have to act now." _

_"I am ready to do whatever is needed for the people of Arendelle, General Jadisen, Sir." _Wow. I sound so smooth and confident.

_"Good man. I am afraid I will only be able to offer you the minimum amount of ammunition and supplies. We will need to conserve our cache for the full-on ground assault to clear the area. I will make sure you have enough to engage any strays you may encounter. My daughter seems to think these things shut down into some sort of hibernating state during the winter. However, I will not risk this vital mission based on that assumption. You are not to enter the main airport. You will not be sufficiently equipped. Are we clear on this?"_

_"Crystal, Sir."_

_"Good. Now then I-"_

_"I need to go with them!" _Another voice breaks into our conversation. This one is much lighter, gentle but firm. Definitely female.

_"How the devil did you get in here Elsa? You know what? Never mind. Please see yourself out the way you came in. You are not to leave the sanctity of the wall, do you understand?"_

_"Papa...Olaf is on the verge of a breakthrough. A vaccine to protect us from turning...maybe...maybe even a cure! Can you imagine? He just needs more tissue and blood samples from the infected," _The new voice pleads. There's a hopefulness, a determination in its tone.

_"Frankly, no, I can't imagine that, and I will not risk you for that gumdrop and rainbow fantasy of his!" _General's callous voice cuts her off. I can tell by the feel of my jaw clenching every time he speaks that I do not like that man much. What kind of name is General anyway?

_"It's not a fantasy! If you'd only take the time to look at his notes, you'd see his research is far more vital than mine!"_

_"Then let that dunderhead do it himself!" _He yells in exasperation.

_"He's not trained for combat, I am. I can handle myself, you know that!" _She is persistent. I like that.

_"Listen carefully Elsa. It's a nice dream to think there's a cure for this. But we have to be the virus takes hold, there's no reversing it. You can't prevent it. I wanted to believe we could once, before your mother... Look, the only cure for this scourge is a bullet to every one of their rotting heads while we protect the ones who are left! Our only chance for survival is their complete annihilation. I'm not only thinking as a father, I'm thinking as someone with the lives of a city in his hands. Your cryogenics research could be the key to ending this calamity once and for all. "_

_"Sir, if I may?" _I finally interrupt his tirade. It's about time.

_"What is it Westergard?" _he questions.

_"I can keep your daughter safe out there Sir," _I answer matter-of-factly._ " I know she is important to you, to Arendelle...and you know she is very important to me as well. I will gladly protect her with my life." _

My voice is dripping with poise and eloquence.

_"Hans..." _I hear her say carefully.

Who is this Hans? Is that my name?

_"And risk this operation? This is lunacy!" _I feel like this General person is going to rupture something if he doesn't calm down a little.

_"It's not lunacy! Papa...I just need samples. There are bound to be a few of them dead or dying on the road to the airport. They haven't exactly had a steady food source over the last few months. I'll just be tagging along."_

_"Elsa would not be hindering our company in any way, General. Your daughter is a very capable woman, if I may say so, Sir," _I add calmly.

A few moments of silence pass in the darkness and I begin to wonder if I have lost the transmission of this memory.

_"Yes, you're right about that. Very well...I will allow this."_

_"Thank you, Papa!" _She sounds happy now, relieved. Good.

_"You can thank Captain Westergard. He was the one who vouched for you, after all. I have the utmost faith in his abilities and he will do as promised to keep you safe, should that be required."_

_"Thank you… Hans."_

_"You know it's my pleasure Elsa," _I reply. _"Always."_

There is something bitter and stale in those last words. It's enough to make my tongue loll out of the corner of my mouth in an attempted escape from the acrid taste.

That was weird.

Elsa. Who is Elsa? Elsa is important...Elsa is valuable to me...or to Hans...to us...whatever. Why does that word feel...wrong?

When I shove the rest of the brains into my mouth greedily, the darkness ebbs and the voices fade. I am spinning through a tunnel of colors and blinding light until I find myself outdoors, away from my home at the airport with pavement crunching beneath my heavy boots. I'm joined by two men on my right. A larger man with the same hair color as K, and a fuzzy chin along with a smaller more wiry one with dark brown hair and a similar fuzzy chin.

"_So,." _The smaller one says. "_A Dane, a Frenchman, and a German walk into a zombie infested airport…"_

"_And without the Scot, they all end up dead!" _Another voice chimes in from behind. I turn to see a woman with fiery copper hair and a large killing machine hoisted over her shoulder. Another woman, also a redhead,, walks close to her side. She's adorned in strange shining...metals...plated together with various objects that shimmer in the light.

_"The Scot was too busy lugging that big ass M-60 and making googly eyes at her deaf girlfriend to be of any assistance," _the short man replies. Both of the women narrow their eyes before the shining one makes a gesture with her hands.

_"Oi! I weren't makin googly eyes! And Ariel's not deaf, she's mute, ya German bastard!" _The fiery one sneers before looking at her companion._ "Also, she says you can go fuck yerself, Eugene!"_

_"It's Flynn! 'Go fuck yourself...Flynn!'" _ Eugene yells. Or is it Flynn? German bastard?

_"And anyway...you'll be thankin' Mo'dur with his tempered barrel and nasty compressed fragmentation rounds that will tear anythin' in front of him to shreds." _ Angry redhead strokes the barrel gently. _"Just like the big ol' bear he is."_

_"Wait...the gun is called Mo'dur? I thought Mo'dur was that adorable teddy-bear backpack you always carry around, Merida," _the big blonde chimes in.

_"That holds my extra bandoliers, Phoebus! You rifle-dropping frog! It was a gift from me mum before everythin' went tits up, thank ye very much!" _

_"Well, you're probably going to have to use it because of your big loud mouth and all of that shiny plate armor your girlfriend is wearing is going to attract all kinds of unwanted undead attention out here!"_ German bastard sasses back. I like him.

_"Zombies don't rely on sight dumbarse! Their dead eyes can't see for shite! They rely on smell! And I'm quite sure they can smell your kraut breath for miles around! I know I can!" _Irate redhead seems so...angry.

_"I don't eat pickled cabbage! I eat pickled herring just like the rest of you...ugh...so much pickled herring."_ He makes a gesture like he's going to vomit.

_"Don't you dare bring Norway into this European war you three have going on, Flynn," _a familiar voice resonates as footsteps approach to my left. _"You're our guest after all. If you don't enjoy sursild, you're more than welcome to go without. I'm sure someone would gladly take up your military ration for you."_ I glance over to see another woman… no not just another woman… the woman from before with the sparkling blue eyes and the plaited cascade of platinum hair hanging off her shoulder. That beautiful creature was the one I had tried to reach in the airport. It was her voice I heard in the darkness. She's at my side now looking at the road ahead, squinting in the light that's beaming around her face. She turns and smiles, and it's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. I feel the corners of my mouth curl upward in response. What...what was her name again?

_"Duly noted, Dr. Jadisen," _he replies. _"When I said 'ugh' I actually meant 'yum' because it's the most fabulous culinary creation in the seven continents. The Norse are a kind, generous, beautiful, and intelligent people who actually address someone by their proper name. Arendelle's hospitality is beyond compare. You know, my wife has family here...well...had. And truly, if it weren't for long, cold, brutal winters near the arctic circle and the...whole...zombie outbreak thing, your beautiful country would literally be paradise. Well...second paradise. Right next to Germany."_

_"Alright, alright. No need to be a kiss-ass," _she laughs, and the sound rings in my ears like the sweetest kind of music.

_"And please, call me Elsa."_

Elsa...that's Elsa! _Her_ name is Elsa.

"El...saaa."

My own lips mouth the name in my spaced out zombie brain trip and all at once, my senses are saturated with her. Images flash through my mind in rapid succession, the sound of her voice, her scent...not the scent of prey..._her_ scent. I'm suddenly privy to all her emotions and actions as seen through his eyes. Something moves deep inside me and my purpose becomes clear. I'm set on only one objective as I spit out the remaining bits of his cooling brain and re-enter the chaos of the world around me.

I have to save Elsa.

Crawling out from behind the twisted metal, I can see her back on top of her mountain of rubble trying to pull one of the other humans up out of reach of the mass of dead hands and gnashing teeth. The light is shining down from the large hole in the ceiling as if igniting my goal to spur me onward through the crowd of moaning, ravenous corpses. They push against me and I shove back. They step on the strings dangling from my shoes, but I refuse to fall again. Before I even realize it, I'm pushing and biting my way through inch by inch, throwing my kin to the ground in a mad rush and holy hell I don't think I've ever moved this fast before. What is happening to me? My forward motion is intensified when I reach the pile by the push of the undead horde behind me until I'm flattened against the debris. My eyes flick upward when I peel my face from a slab of concrete to see her leaning over the other human just out of my reach. The zombies around me are tearing away at their crumbling perch of safety and I realize there isn't much time before it falls, and they will be swept up and devoured before I even have a chance to help her. I don't know what to do except to keep reaching upward as I listen to her cries of panic.

"Flynn! Flynn talk to me!" she yells at the man in her arms. Is that German bastard?

"I'm bit, Elsa. Damn… blue kid… came out of nowhere, sank his teeth in my side."

"Oh God..."

"Does it look bad? It looks bad, doesn't it?"

"No not...not that bad."

"You hesitated."

"Where's Hans?"

"I don't know. I lost sight of him."

"Merida!"

"Aye!"

"Can you and Ariel make it to me?"

"On our way, lass!"

The blasts continue ringing in my ears. There's a fleeting gasp of silence before a loud rumble precedes a crash of stone and metal against the floor as more of the roof collapses, crushing zombies and filling the air with more blinding dust.

"Woo! Take that, you Thriller video rejects!"

"Aye, that was a thing of beauty if I do say so meself! Kinda fucked up the arse now though...Mo'dur is out of teeth."

"Listen...I found a way out...behind me. It's a tight squeeze, but I've managed to kick through enough of the rubble to get back to the jet bridge. We just need to distract this mob long enough to get down there."

"Throw me too em', Elsa. I'm bit. I'm already damned anyway. It'll buy you all some time."

"No! I'm not letting you go out like that, Flynn. I feel responsible for getting you all into this mess, and I'm going to get you out."

"Elsa...you're not…"

"We're running out of time! Listen all of you! Arendelle needs you to complete this mission. Get Ariel to the flight control tower and take these samples back to Olaf. He may be able to help Flynn. There's still time."

"What do ye have in mind to distract these hungry hungry hippos then?"

"This."

"Holy shite ya brought one of those things? An ya didn't think ta use it before now?"

"Well...detonating a cryo bomb indoors isn't exactly ideal for organisms that need to breathe. Even with the extra ventilation up there the nitrogen is going to displace the oxygen near the ground."

The mountain begins to give beneath me as they babble incoherently. I swear if the corpse next to me doesn't get his finger out of my eye I'm going to bite it off.

"I'm going to get their attention! Once I do, you go and get out as quickly as you can!"

"What about you, lass?"

"I'll detonate the bomb. It'll be enough to slow them down, trip them up long enough for me to get some distance and head for the exit."

"I don't like it! I don't like this plan! And Ariel says she hates it!"

"Well its the only one I have right now so you're just going to have to trust me! I'll meet back up with you as soon as I can. Take care of yourselves...and get Flynn to Olaf!"

"Elsa..."

"Yes, Flynn?"

"You...you can call me Eugene."

She ignites a fire stick in her hand and begins waving it back and forth over her head. And if I was entranced by her before, I'm even more so now...so is everyone else by watching the light dance in the air.

"Go!"

"Elsa? What'll we tell yer da?"

"Nothing! I'll be right behind you! Just go! Now!"

There is a brief moment in time when our eyes meet through the chaos. The world literally stops and I can't see anything else outside of the depths of her eyes. In this moment I forget about her safety and my own. I am awestruck...speechless...that's unusual for me. I am adrift in an icy sea of blue and a dancing flame that rains sparkles all around her. I can hear music in the air. It drowns out all of the noise just like how I'm drowning in her eyes. A rotting finger falls out of my mouth (Hey I warned the guy!) as her tongue takes a run across her lips.

If I had a fully conscious mind, I would be losing it right now.

As quickly as that tongue slips back inside to leave those lips wet and glistening my vision is blocked by the black tread on the bottom of her boot. That's right. The girl of my nonexistent dreams just stepped on my face.

Rude.

The boot pushes off my forehead and I turn to see her bounding over the deadheads behind me with a grace that makes me think she must do this sort of thing a lot. She leaps to the floor behind the mob and its enough to snap me out of my stupor. I have to get to her. I have to keep her safe.

Ducking down I weave through the bodies as quickly as I can manage as the tide begins to move forward in pursuit. I feel a surge of strength and speed take over as I focus everything on getting to her first. I'm pretty sure nothing has held my attention this long ever. For whatever reason that I am still trying to comprehend, this food...this girl...she's important to me. It's important to keep her safe.

She's _valuable._

Though the way she is crouching on the ground right now instead of running tells me she's about to be torn into tinier pieces that are no less valuable, but she's so much prettier whole. I break through just in time to see her back on her feet and sprinting down the terminal like her life depended on it. Actually it did… but I still needed to catch her, and my god, she is fast. My feet are tumbling me forward in an awkward display of zombie sprinting skills when I notice the fire stick at my feet and become aware of a loud hissing noise behind me. Before I have a chance to question it the explosion propels me from the earth again, and really, the amount of times this has occurred today tells me that I should have just stayed on my airplane with my records. A thick cloud of white boils up around my slow motion flail of arms and legs.

To say this was the most surprising thing thus far would be a lie. Because when I hit the ground, I find myself careening on my belly across a newly formed sheet of ice. Oh yes...ice...we've met...many times. She is back in my sights when I slide clear of the cloud she is desperately trying to outrun.

_Keep her safe._

_Protect her with your life._

The ice runs out, and I waste no time in scrambling to my feet to get to her. She skids to round the corner towards the security checkpoint, but something in her line of sight stops her immediately. The gurgling moans reach my ears and I realize that the heavily decomposed crew finally made it to the party. I use her moment of shock to close the distance between us, but I can do little to control my forward momentum as I collide into her and we both collide into a heavy wooden door. The door gives immediately and we both fall through to meet the floor as it swings shut behind us. The hum of the lights echoes loudly as they flicker above. I take a quick glance at the surroundings and realize we're in the room with the swirling water holes. I remember occupying myself for days in a room like this in the other terminal until the water stopped working.

I wonder if it still works in this one?

I intend to find out as I get to my feet and shuffle towards one of the tinier rooms before I remember why I'm here.

"El…..saaaa."

She's still lying on the floor, and she's not moving. A growl from outside the door attracts my attention. The others were coming. I needed more time. How could I keep them out? Absently, I run my fingers over the rope in my jacket pocket, and all at once, it becomes clear. I reach out and turn the metal lever on the door to the right. There. Brilliant. Eating his brains has been a good decision. No need for remorse, A. Not that you've ever had any.

A soft moan from the floor wheels me back around. My knees pop as they hit the tile and I crawl my way towards her.

"El...saaaaaaa."

My glimpses of her from a distance and through memories did nothing to prepare me for being this up close and personal. Loose strands of hair cover most of her face, and before I can stop myself, I am brushing them away to get a better look at what's beneath them. Silvery white strands glide through my fingers effortlessly. I imagine it would feel incredibly soft if the nerve endings in my fingers still fired signals to my brain. I can barely hear the whispering sound of air moving through her parted lips.

She's not dead. That's good. That's very good. I tried to save someone and didn't watch them get killed or kill them myself in the process. I should probably not be doing this, she's probably going to be scared out of her wits when she wakes up to a zombie playing with her hair. I need to show some restraint. My hand continues to show little restraint however, as I place my palm against her cheek. I bet… I bet she feels warm. My thumb grazes over her top lip and pushes it back up over her gums.

Hmmm. She has good teeth.

A steady pounding begins on the door. It breaks me away from my study, and I realize I've not really gotten her out of danger yet.

"Ellll...sssaaaaa." I poke her roughly in the cheek with my finger. Wow, her skin is so firm. It just bounces right back into place. Look at that… no indents or anything.

Neat.

I poke her face several more times. Whether out of urgency to wake her, or my own utter fascination, I can't be sure. Finally, she begins to stir. Lids over glassy eyes flutter open and she stares blankly at the wall of tiny rooms beside us. I wonder if she likes the swirling water holes too.

She blinks a few more times and winces as her hand moves to her head. Oh...oh no...she's hurt? Did I break her? I hope I didn't break her. I am definitely not good at this.

I try to speak, but it only comes out as one soft continuous moan as her eyes lock with mine again...and she screams.

"N..n..n..nnnnnnn," is all I can force out of my limited vocabulary as she slides away and jumps to her feet in one seemingly effortless movement.

Of course, it's not so effortless coming to my own, but I manage and I try my best to calm her down. The smell of fear will drive them crazy and they will have that door torn apart in no time.

"Eeeelllllll," I try, as I take slow steps towards her. Of all the times for the capability of speech to leave me… this would be the worst.

"Stay back!" She yells. The pounding on the door grows louder and more urgent. I can hear the wood on the other side beginning to splinter.

"Elllllssssssss.." I'm momentarily interrupted by the knife she pulls out of her boot and throws with precision to sink deeply into the middle of my chest with a wet thump. I glance down at the protruding handle. Now my shirt has collected yet another hole today… dammit. Let's try this again.

"El..saaaaaaa."

Her mouth falls open.

I pull the knife out and let it drop to the floor with a clang. Her whole body is stiff and pressed flat against the wall. I see the tendons tighten in her neck as she clenches her teeth together and swallows. I stop toe to toe in front of her.

"El..saa," I say again. "El..sa."

"What… what are you?" she whispers.

I press two fingers to my lips in a gesture for her to stay quiet before I use them to dig deep into the hole she planted in my chest. Black sludge coats my fingertips and without explanation, because quite frankly, I can't offer one, I begin smearing the fluid on her exposed face and neck. She whimpers with a trembling bottom lip and it's just the most adorable thing and…

Goddammit, focus A!

There are fists punching and tearing through the door now and I can hear the anxious growls and groans behind us.

"K-keep y-you..sssss..afe," I say and rub my fingers down the other side of her face. "D-don't...r..r..r-run ." I lean in close and give her a final sniff to make sure her scent is covered. D-don'tt...s-screamm….o-kkkay?"

She pauses for several moments staring into my unblinking eyes before she finally gives a hesitant nod. I motion towards the tiny rooms and she complies, entering one and closing the door behind her. I shuffle into the stall next to her and await the incoming rabble. The door gives with a final crash of splintered wood and I hear them pour into the room with clomping feet and squeaking shoes. Frantic, snuffling echoes off the walls as they try to pick up the scent of their quarry. Elsa makes a soft sound as they draw nearer and I immediately cover it up by pulling the lever on the swirling water hole, and thankfully, it rewards me with that loud slurping sucking sound.

When I step out of the tiny room, I find several sets of dead eyes, all focused on me. My head tilts to the side and I shrug my shoulders like this is the most natural place to be.

"W-whaat?" I grumble.


	4. When in Rome

A/N: A thousand pleas of forgiveness for this very late update. Real life has been getting in the way and making a real big ass of itself and poo-pooing all over my intentions. Anyway here is a meaty chapter to gnaw on in hopes of making up for the delay. Next chapter will not be far behind, I have it loaded in the chamber now. Thank you as always to my dear beta Azaria97 for all her hard beta work and just being so awesome in general. She is co-authoring a fic currently if you love Harry Potter and Elsanna (and if you don't what in the world are you doing in here? But if you are welcome anyway I'm indeed glad you are here!) check out their story Elsa Riddle here on . Thank you all so so so very much for the support for this story, it is something very enjoyable for me and it is made even more enjoyable knowing you dear readers are enjoying it as well! And now...lets...um...get these two dorks out of the bathroom already...

Still don't own Frozen or Warm Bodies. Also I'll Take You There belongs to The Staple Singers

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Their dead eyes look on with the usual disinterest as we standoff in the land of swirling water holes and good acoustics. The thick cloud that came from the explosion that propelled me forward is seeping through the open doorway covering the floor in a white rolling mist while the other zombies continue to stare at me expectantly.

"P-prob..lem?" I ask amid their moans and disgruntled growls. I don't really expect them to understand me as they've never made the effort before. "W-why-y…th...the...r-r-r-uck...kus?"

They don't answer, of course. Again, no surprise. Casually, I move to lean against the door she's hiding behind as they shamble about.

Zombie persistence is a little hit and miss. Sure, we're determined when we're hungry, but when a trail goes cold, we tend to lose interest and forget what we're fog rolls up and over the tops of my sneakers when Elsa begins to cough.

The rest of them hear it too.

I try to cover it up by slapping to the door with the flat of my hand. My reflexes are terrible though, as I'm sure I've mentioned, so my hand makes contact with the door several seconds after each cough. So instead, I try hacking loudly, putting my forefinger and thumb in my mouth like I'm grabbing at something in the back of my throat.

"H-humanss...st-tringy," I mumble around them.

Elsa is quiet again and soon their interest is back to scouring the room with their remaining senses for the fast food they were so sure had passed this way. Eventually, they give up the quest and revert back into the mindless shuffling horde that they are and make their way back out into the terminal.

Wow. That actually worked! Oh look, someone dropped their arm.

I let a few moments pass to make sure they're all gone before I turn around and press myself against the door. The awkward rap of my knuckles on the wood echoes in the newfound silence.

"El..sa... c-coomee...ouuut.."

There's a slight shuffling sound from within the tiny room and then nothing.

"El...saaaa ...s-s-saafe," I try again.

I hear a gasp followed by several coughs and a small voice. "No."

"Commmeeee..."

"No!"

"Ouuutttt."

"Go...go away! Shoo!"

With a grunt, I lie down on my back and scoot up into the small space beneath the door. With a slow hand I wave the fog out of the way until I can see the outline of black boots planted on opposite sides of the white edges around the swirling water hole. She's looking up and around for an escape route, so when I speak again from the floor she screams and nearly loses her balance.

"A-airrr..pla..aneee..."

"W-what?" Blue eyes blink at me through the mist. The surface wobbles beneath her. "What do you want from me?" She yells while trying to steady herself.

"C-c-commeee...oouuut."

"So you can eat me?" Her fingers stretch to reach for the edge of one of the tiny room's walls. "I don't think so!"

"N-noo...eaattt." I reply. "H-helllpp."

"Right...You want to help yourself."

I grumble and slide back out from under the door. I do not like that tone. Seriously, what is her problem? So my kind has a reputation. But honestly, can't she hear the sincerity in my monotone voice? All I asked was if she wanted to see my airplane and that I'm right out here just open the door and let me help you. And what do I get? _"Go away zombie!" _and _"You just want to eat me!" _Blah blah blah. Oh well, it looks like the time for persuasion is over.

The wood splinters as I tear the door away with the same force my fellow zombies displayed earlier. Elsa bends at the knees, holding those black layered hands out to shield herself from the debris and possibly the zombie who she's convinced is going to eat her. I can't resist the draw as I approach. So when I pull the lever to watch the rush of water retreat at its command, she screams again as her feet slip out from under her, planting her butt soundly over the mystical hole.

Huh. Almost looks like they're meant for sitting.

Now that she's back down closer to my level, she wraps her arms around her her head and cowers behind them.

Cute.

I grab one of those arms and yank her off the porcelain device with a lot less care and tact than I intend. She stumbles, struggling to her feet as I pull her out of the tiny room. Another bout of coughing seizes her and she waves frantically at the fog around her face with her free hand. I pick up the hand attached to the forearm lying on the floor and offer it to her.

This is the closest that I've seen her expression look remotely similar to ours. That's good. She's going to need that. I wave the dead hand at her and motion for her to rub the rotted end on her body.

"Wh-what? I um...I'm not...I don't...no...no th-thank you?" she says taking a step back.

A groan escapes my throat as I proceed to run my hand around inside the dead tissue of the arm. I smear the black blood along the fabric of her arms and across her torso. I could treat her delicately later once she was safe. Right now, I had to walk her through an airport of my eternally hungry brethren and I wasn't going to leave that to chance.

"Why are you...guuuuuckk!"

Elsa picks the wrong time to speak as my hand rubs over her face again. She hacks and wretches on the ground before breaking into another coughing fit. I can certainly understand that disgust. We taste as horrible as we look.

What? Yes, of course I've tried it.

"What are you doing?!" She yells when her gagging subsides. I stop my ministrations and press my fingers to her lips to silence her as I drop the arm. I lean in close to her face and sniff. Her blue eyes dart around wildly, the muscles in her face and neck pulled taut. Her breath quickens and I can hear her swallow the rising panic in her throat.

"Deaaad...nooo eeaatt...d-deaaad...," I tell her with as much clear diction as I can muster.

The look she gives me tells me that didn't exactly translate well. "W-wait, what?"

I step back and motion to her with the usual zombie shuffle with arms hanging limp, head rolled back with an open mouth that emits the aching moan of eternal hunger. Her jaw slackens, she blinks slowly as she watches me. I think she' s getting it.

Finally another hesitant nod. "Okay..."

"S-taayyy...c-c-clossee...d-don'ttt... r-r-run...b-beee... d-deaadd," I summarize as I mimic her head bobbing gesture.

Whew. I think that covers everything. Hoo boy, my slow firing synapses must be exhausted after that. With a hand, I motion for her to follow. She's staring...and I'm staring...and she's not moving so I guess I must be making her uncomfortable. I turn around and wait until I hear her hesitant footsteps. Once she's at my side, we begin our ascent back into the world of the non-living. The sight that greets us beyond the broken door makes my own jaw drop open...but not off, thankfully.

The terminal is covered in ice. I do remember our brief encounter after that explosion. But now there's snow flying down from the ceiling… it's actually snowing inside the terminal! How does that even work? The remnants of the original hunting party are shuffling towards us with their heads and shoulders covered draped in a blanket of white. They're all moving slower like the heavily rotting party and some of them are slipping on the ice. And that's just fantastic because finally, it's not just me!

"W-oow," I mumble flatly, clearly impressed. Well, as impressed as a dead girl can get. Elsa doesn't seem as impressed as she looks around. How can she not be? This is amazing! Wait...did she do this? That would make sense, I guess...the explosion and the ice had followed her after all.

So, on top of everything else so completely beautiful about her, she can make it snow like some sort of...magic wielding banquet?

That's so neat.

Wait, what were we doing? Oh right.

There's a break in the mob, I take Elsa by the wrist and pull her in with me. She stumbles and looks fearfully at the undead surrounding us. I tighten my grip on her wrist until she refocuses on me.

"K-keeeep...m-m-oovingg...beee...d-deaadddd," I remind her, keeping my own gaze straight ahead. She pulls away from my grip and I look over to see both of her arms jutted out in front of her, head rolled way back, and tongue lolling out of the side of her mouth as she drags her feet. There's a terrible gargling sound coming from her open maw, and if it were within my intellectual capability, I might be offended.

"Toooo...m-mucchh," I hiss and pull the arm next to me back down before hiding my words with a slowly drawn out moan. Elsa seems to get the point and dials it back when we shuffle across the access bridge to more familiar surroundings. Familiar for me anyway.

The terminal is abuzz with the wandering dead when we enter. Honestly, I can't remember the last time I saw everyone this active. Alert.

We are so gonna get caught.

What am I even doing?

I am hiding a live human. I am protecting a live...human...being. I am escorting a delicious food source right through starvation central surrounded by the multitude of hungry hosts!

How could this get any worse?

Oh no...what if K finds out? He'd be so angry with me.

"_Idd..iot,"_ he'll say. Then he'll probably break his foot off in my ass...most likely in the literal sense.

My gaze wanders back to the beautiful, terrified food...human...woman beside of me. As long as she's safe, it will be okay. I will do anything to make sure of that. Including this and-

Oh fuck is that him? Shit...that _is_ him!

He's dragging something behind him as he makes his way towards our migrating mob. Oh please don't see us...please don't see us. What the hell _is_ that hanging off his arm?

"Sven?" Elsa whispers, her head turned towards the same scene I'm witnessing. The hairy thing has its mouth clamped around K's forearm, its forelegs paddling uselessly in the air while its hindlegs click along awkwardly with each stride my large friend makes. K, for his part, doesn't seem very aware of his new accessory. He looks kinda worse for wear though...even for a dead guy...even for K.

"Sven...," Elsa repeats, louder this time, her voice trembling.

I grunt and bump her with hand with the back of my own. She flips her gaze back to me with wide, glassy eyes that quickly flash with understanding before she lowers her head without another word.

Our group appears to be heading towards the emergency exit to the tarmac. That means stairs...but it also that means excellent cover until we get to the jet and hopefully K won't notice-

"Aaaaaaaahhhhhh!" His hoarse voice echoes in the terminal.

Don't worry, he's just randomly yelling because there's a large hair covered growth on his arm. I bet he doesn't even see me.

"H-heeyyy...Aaaaaaaaaaaaa...lit..tle ...h-heelp?"

Fuck.

Don't look, just don't look, be dead...be brain dead. You hear nothing.

I can tell he's looking at me even though I have my eyes averted. I can feel his constant stare of disapproval boring into the side of my skull. My hand slips up to cover my face and block its menacing power as I tug Elsa along with my other arm, ushering her through the door with the abominable snow zombies. They're all flocking towards the sun to melt the frozen substance clinging to their bodies. Meanwhile, I'm entranced by the way the sunlight threads through Elsa's hair changing it from white to a light gold.

The downward stair climb goes better than I anticipated. Perhaps it's group confidence...perhaps it's because I don't want to make a fool of myself in front of Elsa quite yet. There will be plenty of time for that later. At least, I hope so. Needless to say, I only step on my shoelaces once, and even then I manage to catch myself before I'm propelled forward into a mass of dead, flailing limbs and cantankerous moans.

Though she might not notice with her eyes downcast and her arms wrapped tightly around her body like that. Like she's resigning herself to the ominous fate of endlessly walking with no clear course, no objective, only survival in a wasteland of the forever damned.

Wow, she's really getting the hang of this.

_"She's even got the intermittent moaning down,"_ I think before I hear the quiet watery sniff through her nasal passages. Okay, so she's not moaning. What do I do now? How do I comfort? How do I reassure food? I have no answer to these questions, and thoughts like this are annoying things, kind of like flies.

But I'm compelled to reach out and touch her shoulder whether by some deep instinct or a stolen memory I don't know. Elsa recoils instantly, jerking away from my fingers with a strangled gasp.

Touching is not reassuring...got it.

I grunt and point to to the plane up ahead of us while I have her attention as the group fans out around us to stand beneath the midday sun. Her gaze follows the trajectory of my finger before falling back down to the ground. Her arms tuck tighter into her sides. I'm sure she will feel better once she's safe. We will get on board, sit down and have a real conversation without all of these deadheads interrupting.

When she hits the first step of the stairs leading up to the hatch, she breaks character and charges up them skipping every other one in her hurried strides before she disappears through the doorway at the top.

I really can't tell if she's scared or just showing off. All I can do is grumble about it while I pull myself up, step by awkward step until I stumble through the opening. I spare a final glance behind me to see if we were noticed. Everyone is moving along below us caught up in their own worlds. There's no sign of K either. That's good, that's really good. He probably forgot all about watching me visibly ignore him already. Things are gonna be just fine. The hatch squeaks I when I pull it shut, locking us both in and away from the world outside.

Welcome silence.

Looking around, I don't see her at first. It's a small plane and there's not a lot of space to hide in. It's beginning to look like she's managed however. That is, until I see a shock of that silvery blonde hair quivering by a window seat near the back of the cabin. Now that's a shame. I'd have let her sit in first class.

Humans are certainly fragile creatures without their killing machines it seems. I need to approach this situation delicacy...I mean delicately. She doesn't feel safe. I need to calm her fears. I need to show her that I'm _still_ not going to hurt her. Show her that well…I like her…as a _not_ food thing.

Much to my dismay when the rest of her comes into view I see she's pointing that knife at me again. Wait...that knife? I threw that thing on the ground didn't I? When did she pick it back up? Sneaky prey. Oh well, I'm sure she remembers how that whole stabby thing worked out for her the first time. Now, I myself don't recall the rules of personal boundaries from when I was alive and I don't even pretend to. I can tell you for certain, however, that zombies have no respect for those rules whatsoever. So I sit down roughly beside of her.

Elsa shrieks and pushes herself further against the hull. The knife is still pointed at me, jutting out in-between two thick boot soles like she's going to kick and stab me all at the same time.

So cute.

Air is whistling through her clenched teeth, in and out in rapid succession. Her eyes wide with panic. She reeks of fear even through the thick coating of dead blood. I should explain that she should feel safe right now because normally that smell alone is enough to drive me into a feeding frenzy of ginger teeth and claws. Though somehow what little speech capability I have is escaping me for some reason.

"Get back!" She yelps and jabs the knife at me. It startles me out of my revelry. I really don't want another hole in this shirt...or my body for that matter.

They invite maggots.

Clearly, I'm out of practice at whatever it is that I'm trying to do. There's some archaic tome in my brain that suddenly flips open and tells me to bring my hands up in surrender, so I do. I try to give her a gentle reassuring gaze to calm her, to let her know I'm not going to hurt her. The abject horror spreading across her face tells me that it's definitely having the opposite effect.

Time for a different approach.

I bring one hand to my chest and try to form the word carefully.

"Aaahh…," I manage, as soft and non-threatening as possible.

Not bad.

She's looking at me now like I'm definitely getting ready to eat her. It's frustrating. Please stop looking at me like that when I'm trying to communicate.

"Aaaahhhhh," I try again, tapping my chest with my fingers.

She screams and in one swift motion her legs come down, her arm shoots out and a knife is suddenly sunk to the hilt in my chest...once again... just below my left clavicle.

God damn it.

I take the hilt of the knife in my hand and stand up to loom over her. Really now, that was completely unnecessary. I lean in close because I want her to understand what I'm trying to tell her. I also want her to understand I do not appreciate her continually putting invitations for maggots in my torso.

"Aaaaaaaahhhhhhh!"

She screws her eyes shut as her entire body spasms with tremors. When what little color that was left drains from her face and I see trails of liquid running down her cheeks. I realize I may have come on a little strong. She is, after all, only doing what is natural in the face of a predator. Also, my breath probably smells terrible. Like really, really, terrible. So I sit back down and wait for her to regain her composure.

When the quaking subsides and the sniffling dies down, I see her opening her eyes and realizing the fact that she's still not being chewed on. I'd like to pride myself in the patience I learned just now, but I am still hellbent on getting this right. I gather all my limited abilities at enunciation and try one more time.

A little softer this time A, don't be so excited. Here we go once more with feeling…

"Aayah…Aeeee…Aee…Ae."

There it was!

Now I just need to point at myself like the excited idiot I am.

So I do.

"A?"

Success!

"Your name… is A?"

And I'm so excited, my enunciation once again flies right out the window.

"Mmmmrrrruuuhhh," I respond as I pat the knife protruding from my chest. Her brows knit together in confusion.

"El...saaaaa," I say and raise a finger in her direction.

She slams her head back against the hull in her horrible attempt to flee my hand gesture. Okay...okay...no touching. Geez. I try again, holding my palm out in a more submissive gesture.

"El...saaa," I repeat and her eyes are on me, looking at me and not through me. God, I can't remember the last time I _felt_ this much.

"That's right," she says finally and licks her lips. "I'm Elsa." I can see her eyeing the knife.

"Mmmmmmnnnnnuuhhhh," I moan contentedly now that we have been properly introduced. This is going so well.

"How? H-how do you know my name?"

Oh shit. Play it cool.

"Uhhhhhh...H-hearrdd," I say and point at my ear.

"S-s..saaw," I add, poking myself in the eyeball.

Well...that wasn't really a lie. More of an omission of certain truths that would probably not sit well during our first casual conversation.

"What do you…want… from me?" She asks, the tone of her voice growing more urgent. I can tell we're about to lose the calm again.

I groan and close my eyes. I should tell her the truth. Right now. I shouldn't...keep things from someone so important...so _valuable_ to me.

"Why… why did you save _me_?" Her voice is now louder and filled with panic, waiting for me to respond. It's enough to bring me to my decision and I open my eyes to answer.

What I try to say is…

_"Because you took my breath away the from the first moment I saw you. Okay, so that isn't really possible, but what I'm trying to say is you're the most beautiful food…uh…human that I've ever seen in my entire life…er…death. You were standing there, mowing us all down with a shotgun and all I could think about was how I just wanted to forget all of this 'eat the living' nonsense and get up the nerve to come and talk to you._

_For the first time in forever I suddenly didn't feel so lonely anymore…so lost. Suddenly, things seemed to make sense for a change! I was going to do it too…I was just going to walk right up to you, shotgun and all, and...and...I don't know. Then I got broadsided by that...ugh...that man...that Hans. We wrestled on the floor for a bit before my killer instincts took over and I smashed his fucking skull against the concrete. That's just what I do, you know? I kill. I eat. I repeat. It's my thing. My jam. I don't like it, but there it is. He tried to kill me first so... And I also ate some of his brains, Elsa._

_And all of those memories of you just flooded me all at once. The way your hair spills all around your shoulders when its down from that braid you wear. The way you smile when you're happy and your whole face just glows with this inner light that doesn't even seem real. Your laugh sounds like a thousand tinkling bells ringing all at once. When you sing, you can make the whole world stop to revolve around your voice._

_I saw you laugh with your friends, I saw you cry with them. I saw the way you looked at the stars sometimes like everyone and everything mattered. I watched you in secret as you danced barefoot with the snow falling all around you like nothing or no one ever did._

_I have wanted for so long to remember things like this, even if they're just fleeting moments. I could kill you and take your memories and more from you right now. Yet, I'd be a fool to take the only thing out of those memories that truly matters, the thing that makes them so special, and that's you."_

And what comes out is…

"Pre…tty."

_Really _gotta work on my delivery.

She whimpers and cowers further into the corner where she puts her face in her hands and begins to sob. Hearing that clenches and twists something in my gut so I stand and stumble as quickly as I can over to my record player on the other side of the plane. I pick up the one I recognize with the bright yellow circle in the middle. I lay it gently on the turntable and place the needle in the groove.

The music starts. A guitar.

A pause.

Then a blast of horns.

_Oh, mmm, I know a place._

So it's certainly true as a zombie my emotional range is somewhat…sparse. However, I know whenever I get anywhere near what might be considered the emotional equivalent of sad, this song makes it all go away.

_Ain't nobody cryin', ain't nobody worried  
Ain't no smilin' faces, mmm, no no  
Lyin' to the races_

_Somebody, help me now  
I'll take you there_

I find a blanket, because humans still feel cold, because humans still need comfort. Elsa is still curled in the same position when I return. I pull the knife from my chest and gently tug the hands away from her face. I close them around the hilt of the blade so she can hold it good and tight. She'll feel safer with it.

"Youu...ah...arre ...O..k-kay," I tell her.

And I want her to feel safe.

_Help me, y'all  
I'll take you there  
Help me now_

I drape the blanket over her shivering body and practice my long overdue etiquette lesson of personal boundaries by sitting down in the row across from her.

I want her to feel warm.

_Oh, oh mercy  
I'll take you there  
Oh, let me take you there_

I watch her for a few more moments and notice that she's actually watching me too. She's studying me. And for a split second I think there might be a possibility that she will see me as something more than just a reanimated corpse. That thought fills me with something I can't comprehend, so I press the button on the side of my chair to lean back and recline. I turn my gaze towards the ceiling to allow her some privacy.

_I'll take you there_

My hand slips inside my pocket, seemingly with a mind of its own to brush along the branches of the strange trinket residing there. I can feel the pull of his memories begin to take over as the hull begins to stretch and fall away around me. It's quite possible that I might not come back from this. It's actually very likely that she's going to jump out of that seat and saw me into a thousand pieces with that serrated blade. Strangely, I'm okay with that. If that's how she decides this is going to go, then so be it. All I know for sure is I'm never _ever _going to hurt her. And as long as I can shamble this carcass around, I will keep her safe. I will protect her.

_Oh, oh, let me take you there  
I'll take you there_

Besides, I can still hear my music. My favorite part of the song is coming up and I don't want to miss it for anything. Daddy's about to play the piano.

_Play, play your piano now_

There it is!

_All right, ah, do it, do it,  
Come on now  
Play on it, play on it...  
Daddy daddy now_

Ain't nobody cryin'.

Ain't nobody worried.

And I have Elsa.

Elsa.

Elsa.

Elsa.

And as I listen to that guitar solo and the world begins to soften around the edges before fading out entirely, I feel something twitch deep inside my chest.

...

God, I hope I'm not already infested with maggots.


	5. Secondhand Ambitions

A/N: Alas, it seems I am always apologizing for later than intended updates because...they've all been so much _later_ than intended. I think this one is the worst offender by far and please reap my sincerest of apologies for it. Life, stress, work, writer's block etc. etc. all played their roles like Shakespearean actors. But please rest assured no matter how long the updates may stretch I am having far too much fun with these characters and their story so it will never be abandoned nor neglected for too long if I have any control or say on that matter. As always my beta Azaria97 is awesome and amazing and I thank her for all she does to help me plow through these undead and loveable idiots. My friend EOTWY00xx00 provided color commentary (and he is in love with commas). Fruipit and Aelifsigrun for the fun and inspiration in writing and art with the crack fic collab of epic proportions, Tiny Recomposing Hearts, featuring pom!Elsa and zombie!Anna. Come find the zanyness on tumblr or check out our first chapter of crack-a-palooza on Ao3. Thank you so much also to the amazing ViennaOrlando (VegliaSerena on Deviantart) who delivered such a wonderful commission piece! And as always thank you for all the reviews, follows, and favorites! I'm behind on correspondance as well but I'mma get there! This is the last day of my very relaxed and enjoyable vacation and here is a chaptery gift to celebrate! So without further ado...let's have some more fun with zombies.

* * *

The darkness takes over once more. Even though my zombie eyes aren't the best, I miss them, because now I can't see anything.

I can hear things though. It sounds almost like my record player, but in reverse. The words are piecing themselves together, bit by bit, faster and faster. In time they aren't just syllables, they are words and sentences, cranking up steadily like an engine with very little gas. In time it is no longer noise, it is a voice, a new voice...disjointed and clearly agitated but at least now I can understand what it is.

"_Th...is...mi..ssion..is..to..f..ail...I.. do..n't..ca..re how or what you have to do. That control tower does not go online under Jadisen's command. The people are already growing restless about the failed expeditions over the North Mountain. The pieces of our plan are falling into place, but I require more time. Get rid of that hacker they're posing as a computer specialist. She's troublesome anyway. Dispose of whatever scraps you pick out of this pitiful rabble. Feed them to the zombies if you wish, make it look like an accident. Or line them up and shoot them in the head for all I care. Just make it quick, make it clean and make it back before sundown. I'm sure 'it' will clean up any...mess, you decide to make out there. But I have little control over the beast after dark. And, do forgive my pessimism, but I have doubts that even you could charm your way out of those jaws." _

What an unpleasant noise this voice is. It sounds as if someone is pinching their own nose and attempting to speak through it at the same time. It's strained...and old...and wheezy. Like wind blowing through an empty trashcan.

_"I'm afraid it's true," _I acknowledge morosely. The militaristic and contemptuous tone is familiar, but even after hearing it a second time, I still don't enjoy the sound. "_Winning the hand of an ancient demigod that's been awoken from some old rune has never been my strong suit, sir." _

_"This isn't a goddamned game, Westerguard!" _The nasally voice shrieks as something slams hard against a wooden surface. "_The new moon is coming, and if you want to live to see the next one, you'd better start taking this seriously! You want to be a hero don't you boy? To have all the power and glory that comes with that? We've spent too long hiding behind walls and tending to the weak, feeding them, sheltering them. Do you know why?"_

_"Because...it's the right thing to do?" _I offer, knowing it will annoy the man.

_"No. It's because the leadership within these walls is as rotten as those walking corpses outside. All of Jadisen's time and effort has been spent on sustaining this overcrowded cesspool, banking on waiting the dead out...not to mention his daughter's top secret science project, which she believes will save us all. I tried to convince him to take back that airport three years ago, to put our efforts into guns, ammunition and armor. Instead he chose to be the philanthropist, offering aid to every piece of human garbage remaining in this city. The lot of them are good-for-nothings, except for draining our resources. Now look where it's gotten us; weakened military, rationed food, crumbling infrastructure. This war is about self preservation, survival of the fittest...not charity. If one wants a place in this new world, one must be prepared to make the necessary sacrifices."_

I'm not listening to a word he's saying at this point. Hans has heard it all of it a hundred times. The only thoughts going through my head right now are "_batshit crazy,_" "_crackpot,"_ and "_Weaseltown, Weaseltown, Weaseltown._"

But I have a carefully constructed answer prepared.

_"Yes, sir_."

"_I assume your infiltration into the ...upper ranks...is still going accordingly_?" Weaseltown asks.

"_I'm finding Dr. Jadisen to be a rather difficult nut to crack, sir, though the general is all but eating out of my hand. He trusts me completely. But I'll have the doctor doing the same, soon enough. She just requires some more persuasion. That's why I'm letting her go with us tomorrow_," I state matter-of-factly.

"_You what_?" He snaps. "_Are you mad? We still need her_!"

"_We __**need**_ _her...to be cooperative," _I deflect, trying to dissuade the man's anger_. "And I find people that are consumed with guilt and self loathing much easier to control, to persuade. She has both, in spades, but I think she might need an extra push...to freshen the wounds a little. Besides...a lady like her needs a hero, and I intend to be just that_."

"_So Captain Westergard, you've decided to jeopardize this whole operation for some...romantic conquest_?" He spits at me.

"_Not at all, sir_," I answer calmly. "_You gave me a job, a mission, which I intend to carry out. I'll get you what you want, colonel, then take what's mine. Everybody wins_."

Hans is feeling something now that even I recognize. That sensation that occurs when I'm compelled to take something from my kin. Something they have that I want. It's not a direct confrontation, but I will use my limited intelligence on lesser, simpler minded zombies to get what I want. It doesn't take much to deceive them out of a limb or a more desirable piece of meat. "..._or maybe I'll go spill all your little secrets to the general_, _and I'll still win_." I can almost taste the ambition...whatever the hell that is. "_Yet...the promise of power is much more alluring than continuing to lick Jadisen's boots. Being on the side not scheduled to be slaughtered...that's also a plus_. _Though I'll be damned if I trade one set of old man's boots for another._" I know that patience will prevail however, it seems it always has. Another opening will come...and I will be rid of this braying jackass as well. Right now the solution is to appear obedient, complacent...and charming.

"_I told you this isn't a game!" _Weaseltown yells again_. "We have our fingers on a hair trigger here; any deviations are liable to blow up in our faces. I have eyes and ears everywhere within this...prison, masquerading itself as a safe haven. But I'm putting my trust in you, boy. Do __**not**_ _cross me..I promise you won't like the result. Just because you're in this up to your neck, doesn't mean you aren't expendable. Or irreplaceable. Make sure you remember that. If you botch this up, do us both a favor? Don't bother walking back through those gates_."

Wow. So much for trust.

"_I won't fail, Colonel." _My voice is solid, confident. _"You have my word on that_."

With a sudden rush of light I find myself staring at a very familiar structure looming just beyond the airfield I'm standing on. There's some formerly undead corpses stretched out on the ground in front of me. Very stretched. A piece here, a piece there. We've run into nothing but a few scattered body parts the entire way up here.

"_Looks like Weaseltown's pet made it down from the mountain_," I think as I poke my boot at a pile of viscera. "_Maybe his 'insane old man ramblings' have some merit after all. I still don't trust him as far as I could toss that horrible toupee of his. But something certainly tore through these animated meat bags with great fanfare. Didn't seem to feed off of them, though, which pretty much eliminated scavengers on the list of causes. Hell, maybe the zombies were just turning on each other now...much like the idiots behind me. Ugh. I had hoped to be rid of these losers already and on my way back to the wall with Elsa. Oh well. I have my orders and I intend to see them through_."

In the distance, a crumbled jet bridge leading into one of the terminals catches my attention. The corners of my mouth lift into a small smirk.

Perfect.

My grip tightens around my weapon as the bickering behind me intensifies. "_These idiots are so loud...you would think every zombie within five miles would come running_," I consider. The nervous twitch in my eye has had all it can stand of this, so I spin around to confront them with a balanced, collected demeanor.

Despite all of that, it still sounds so...phony.

"_Look, I realize it's been another very long winter for everyone. We've been cooped up a little too long, not much to do except avoid hypothermia and starvation. And I'm sure you're all just as tired of looking at snow as I am. So, I understand that tensions are a little...high, right now. But please...can you four stop arguing for two seconds and at least pretend to take this mission seriously? Arendelle is depending on us!"_

There's a broken chorus of "_sorry, sirs," and "yes, sirs," _before the group goes quiet. One of the redheads-Hans knows her as Ariel Morgan-lowers her gaze and draws circles on her chest with a fist. It's a form of communication...Hans recognizes it as sign language.

_"Where's Dr. Jadisen?" _I ask, looking between their sheepish faces.

"_She's still pokin' at those bodies by the hole in the fence, captain," _the other redhead announces, Merida DunBroch, pointing a thumb over her shoulder. "_Scrapin' up whatever weird shite she's supposed to be gettin' for the necromancer... I uh, I mean that wee weirdo, Olaf."_

I push past them without another word to see Elsa crouched near the chain link structure that surrounds the airport. A large, familiar creature sits close to her. I know this thing to be...a Sven...it's watching intently as she sifts through the viscera and remains. I hear her talking rather adamantly to the thing as I get closer.

"_This just doesn't make any sense! They've been torn apart...there's definitely some teeth marks but they've not been scavenged at all. What kind of animal could, or would, chew through steel fencing just to throw zombies around like rag dolls_?"

"_I don't know...a bear, maybe_?" Sven asks in a crackling voice.

I feel a wave of confusion because apparently Sven's are not supposed to speak in crackling voices.

"_It'd have to be one big, hungry bear. And right out of hibernation? I doubt it'd be picky about the decaying state of its first meal._" She replies, turning a decapitated head over in her hands. "_Whatever it was, it just seemed to shake the stuffing out of them and leave_."

A realization occurs to Hans as the voice becomes more familiar. It wasn't the creature talking, it was that 'wee weirdo' that DunBroch had mentioned. "_I had explicitly stated not to carry radios" I think heatedly, '"And yet here she is, defying my orders...and after everything I've done for her_." I feel the pressure of my teeth clenching and grinding together.

"_Oh! Oh! Maybe it's the giant puppy of the apocalypse here to tear asunder and make wee on the encroaching zombie horde! That'd be pretty awesome wouldn't it, Sven_?" Olaf's voice carries across the distance I'm quickly closing.

The hairy creature whines in response.

Elsa chuckles and pries her knife into the hole in the back of the skull. "_I'm serious Olaf. This is...disturbing, to say the least_. _The brainstem has been severed. Completely. I'm afraid I'm not going to have very good samples to give you_," she continues.

"_Just get what you can, Elsa, then come back home. I don't like you being out there...especially with_..." The crackling voice starts before Sven finally notices me. His lips peel back over long, saliva coated teeth as he growls softly.

Her startled gaze snaps up to meet my own. The hand that reached for the gun at her side slides away slowly as the tension wanes from her neck and shoulders, though only slightly. My jaw relaxes as I offer her a winning smile.

"_You prefer having in-depth conversations with Sven now, instead of me_?" I ask.

"_No Hans. I was just talking to_...," she starts before I interrupt.

"_Olaf. I heard. Disobeying my explicit request to leave behind any radio contact_."

"_It's just a small device the communication guys have been working on...to attach to the dogs' collars, see?" _She points out a small, round device attached to the red rope around Sven's furry neck. _"They eventually want to equip them with cameras and thermal technology to search for survivors. I told Olaf I would try it out. Besides, I need him to tell me exactly where to cut for these samples. I'm not exactly an ace in anatomy..._" Elsa replies before swallowing hard.

"_Not exactly an ace in following instructions either, are you?_" There's a sharper edge in my voice this time. "_I'm in charge of the only radio, Elsa. You know how they attract those...monsters. Radios are only for desperate emergencies. We're not here to try out science projects_."

"_I understand that but...if the group gets separated_..."

"_The group does not 'separate'. It doesn't split-up. It moves as a unit. That's why I asked you to stay with the them while I scouted ahead. Numbers are these monsters' only advantage; they're rarely able to mount an ambush. But you never know what's behind you out here_."

"_Yeah, I know. That's why I brought Sven_," she quips with a slight toss of her hair.

"_Ah yes, the most useless mutt in the K-9 program. I seem to recall telling you that Sitron would have been a much better choice._"

"_I __**trust**__...Sven_," she responds, her voice becoming more firm and defiant, eyes becoming harder as they make contact with mine.

"_Hey, sideburns! I might let you stand there and berate my best friend because she's not under your pervasive militaristic control. But I'll be damned if I'll stand by and listen to you insult my dog!_" The crackling voice comes to life again.

I say nothing, focusing instead on grabbing the device on Sven's neck and ripping it off. The _crackling voice_ must be aware of what I'm doing, because it protests, loudly, saying "_Oh, no you don't you sonofabitch, put me dow-!_"

The contraption shatters like dry bone in my fist. The creature...the...dog, growls at the intrusion and snaps his head up only to avert his gaze once his eyes find my hardened stare.

"_Hey!" _Elsa starts.

Her steely gaze is waiting on me when I turn to face her, even though my voice is gruff and officious. "_Trust me when I say that using a walkie-talkie like this could get us all killed. Even if Olaf's miracle cure was real, it wouldn't do us any good out here."_

She makes a face that is both infuriating and adorable...at least I think those two words apply. Even though I can _feel_ the anger, there's something different she's evoking from me. Both feelings remain when she comes to her feet, looking me in the eye before brazenly declaring, "_My value to this mission is no less depreciated simply because my father awarded you command, Hans. You do not command ME. I will gather samples as I will and happily rub the results in your face when Olaf proves you wrong."_

I feel a snide smile spread across my lips. I'm not sure what snide means, but it seems to fit. _"Don't forget," _I hear myself saying, "_I'm the only reason you were allowed to tag along on this trip. Your father intrusted me with your safety but also the safety of this mission. Do I not deserve gratitude outside of that pitiful display you put on for the general? God damn it, Elsa! All I've ever done is try to help you, to protect you. Don't I deserve some respect? Don't I deserve some kindness in return? I'm a patient man. But I care so much about you. And whether you choose to believe it or not Elsa I..."_

_"Don't," _she says quickly, shaking her head. "_You don't even know what that word means."_

Furious, I reach into the neckline of my shirt to reveal the oddly shaped trinket that started this memory recall fiasco. I hold it aloft and almost push it into Elsa's face, declaring "_Well like it or not, your father has linked us together and I'm not going to disregard that responsibility. If this mission fails, we fail, __**you **__fail. Do you really want to do that to him again, Elsa_?"

Her expression changes, contorts into something filled with pain and despair. An emptiness floods her eyes and I'm feeling...I mean, I'M feeling...that something is off. This feels..._wrong_. It's wrong to make her feel like this. But a part of me 'feels' accomplished at what I have said, what I have done to this woman. How can that be? What gives me the right to say such things or even enjoy the fact that I am saying them? Why is it I only find reason to express existentialism when I'm experiencing something through someone else? And what in the flesh-eating hell is existentialism anyway?!

Elsa is clearly upset, or at least looks it. She stands and lets the decapitated head roll away from her, sliding the strap of her bag back onto her shoulder. I watch all of this with a steady gaze and wait for her to look at me again...but she never does. Instead she turns and begins to walk towards the group without so much as a nod in my direction.

I feel no insult. Rather, Hans feels no insult...only a strange sense of accomplishment.

Somehow, I know that feeling. I get it every time I make something living into something not-living.

"Thank you for proving my point," she says over her shoulder. Soon, she is many steps away, but the hopeless acceptance within her voice lingers well after she has gone.

Every moment spent within this man and his memories is...uncomfortable. The undead feel discomfort, but not in the way one might imagine. Irregularity, the loss of routine, the interruption of some pre-established set of circumstances...the 'flow' if you will...these things will disturb a zombie, disturb me, if altered. I know this but I...I wanted change. I wanted out of that existence. I just wanted to be closer to Elsa. But right now, being part of this thing call Hans is proving to be more than I can grasp. I know these sensations, I deal with them daily. But now, experiencing them in someone who was very much alive...I sense myself feeling repulsed. I want out. I want away. There is nothing more to eat here, except something rotten and disturbing.

Is this what is feels like? To be alive? To be...not me? I'm not sure, of anything, really. I only know that I desire OUT of this, whatever it is.

I turn to face the group again, my lips pulled up in a smile that I feel is wrong for this moment. But it remains. This smile feels planned. Unreal. Undead...like me.

Then a pool of something-blood, oil, water, I can't come up with these words right off, but it could be any of them-comes into my vision, on the tarmac. It catches the rising light of the day in such a way as to almost hurt my eyes. But it allows me to see something new, something personal.

I see myself. I see Hans. His eyes, my eyes, his smile, my smile, his hair that catches its own fire and his teeth that are so like mine...well...his are straighter. They all come together as familiar and routine and expected.

The smirk is mine as well. It is disgusting, but it is mine, and I can't get rid of it, not matter how much I hate how it looks on my own own face.

Zombies don't hate. They feed and they shuffle and they moan. But they don't hate.

Until now.

* * *

_**THUNK!**_

The trinket is flying now, for some reason. My outstretched hand is beneath it. Maybe I threw the thing? Would I do something like that? What exactly happened? The strain in my arm-or the closest thing to strain that I can comprehend-tells me I got rid of something that was bothering me. Did it happen when I bonked my head on the seat in front of me?

I can't tell. But it's gone now, skittering across the floor of the plane.

It is better that it is away right now. That much I can agree on.

I loll my head to one side. Elsa is still there. Not quite awake and still holding that knife, as if she fell asleep while fending me off.

Silly Elsa. I'm over here. You can't reach me from where you are. Then again, you have a pretty good throwing arm.

_**THUNK!**_

I didn't hit my head that time...what the hell made that noise? If it wasn't me or the pretty-sleepy girl…

_**THUNK!**_

"AAAAaaaaaaaaaayyyyyy…!" comes a loud voice, raspy and thin.

Elsa is awake now. That's sad, she looks cute when she's stabbing me with a knife in her sleep. Her eyes are big and scared again. I don't like that.

"W-what? What is that?" She manages, peering further from out from underneath the blanket I gave her.

_**THUNK!**_

"AAAAAAAAAYYYYYYY!" the voice again.

Remember what I said about routine? This voice is very routine. I know it. I hear it every day.

"Kaaaaaaayyyyyy…" I say, looking at the ceiling. "Idd..iot..."

I lurch my hips forward, causing the rest of my body to follow in a ripple-like lunge. Elsa pulls back again, even as I walk towards the front of the plane. The 'Thunk' noise is getting louder, which isn't helping Elsa stay calm.

Need to stop K from making this worse.

_**THUNK!**_

I see him outside the door. He looks angry. Or hungry. Or both. Again, we have limited expression. But his head is swollen and his teeth are bared. Maybe he was trying to chew his way in.

He rears back and places his foot forward, before lunging into the door, head first. The 'Thunk' of his forehead is hollow and wet, followed by a wide-eyed look through the porthole.

He can see me. I can see him.

"AAAAAAYYYYY! IN...TH...ERE!" he accuses.

"Urgghhhh…" I say, reaching for the pressure latch. In the scope of all of my bad ideas, baring in mind that I ever remember any of them, I'm going to have to put opening the door to let K in right at the fucking top.

Clearly I am not thinking this through. And if I'm being completely honest, thats pretty much a zombie standard.

"Whaaaaaaaa?" I start, before he stumbles in on unsteady feet.

"Aaaaaayyyy...oooooooffff...!" K says, the head-butting catching up with him. He reaches up to his skull and swoons for a second, trying to maintain his already precarious balance. His eyes point in two different directions before he finally reasserts himself, wobbling and wavering with his swollen head.

But then he looks behind me, past me...and suddenly shoves me to the floor, booking for the back of the plane.

Elsa yelps

Oh no. No. No. No. No!

He's already halfway down the aisle before I can get back on my feet. By the time I catch up he already has Elsa suspended out of the seat, dangling in the air with his big hand latched around her throat. K brings her in closer to his face as he sniffs her. I have to say, for her part, Elsa is following my instructions well. She struggles, but doesn't scream. She doesn't make a sound, despite her predicament. Though I'm not entirely sure how much of it is following instruction, or lacking the ability to get enough air in her lungs to do so.

"KKKAAYYYY...N-N-NO!" I yell, grabbing onto his shoulders from the back, hanging off of him like a useless limb. I'm using all the strength I have to try and pry him off her.

"S-s-stooppp!" My voice is hoarse and strained.

Elsa is slapping feebly now at the torn material on K's arms. She must have dropped the knife. This isn't going to end well...and I don't want to choose, but I have to...I have to keep Elsa safe.

"_Elsa is important...Elsa is valuable to me. Elsa is...mine._"

With my mouth open wide I resort to the only thing I know. With a cry I sink my teeth into his shoulder. The taste of matted cotton and old blood begins to fill my mouth. I hate that cotton flavor, it usually means I've missed my target while hunting. But I'm not letting go.

I watch helplessly as he turns Elsa's head to the side in his hand, and with one final sniff, he drops her roughly back into the seat. While she's choking and sucking in lungfuls of air, and before I can do much of anything else, K reaches behind him and plucks me off effortlessly like the rotten limb I am. He spins me around and suddenly I'm the one being hoisted in the air by the grip on the front of my jacket.

He looks me dead in the eyes with his, um...dead eyes, and growls, deep and menacing.

"Idd..iot!"

Oh shit, here comes the foot up my ass. Brace for impact. Who am I kidding? I can't brace anything.

"Kaaaayyyyy," I plead, trying to make my eyes look bigger.

He drops me with the same unceremonious pomp he'd given Elsa a few moments before, right in the seat beside her.

"Fffood EAAT!" K yells, pointing to the food item sitting beside me. For a moment I turn to glance at her horrified features before turning back to face my cantankerous friend. At least I was between them now.

"Nnn...nno," I reply, coming to my feet again, pushing him roughly, forcing him back up the aisle on his unsteady feet. Away. Away from Elsa. "N-n-nooo eaaat!"

K roars and throws his fist into a vacant passenger seat. The metal pops and snaps easily under the blow. The chair squeaks in defeat as its front braces give way. His eyes bore into me as I keep moving forward up the aisle in an attempt to keep his backward momentum going. He stops suddenly, trying a different approach.

"Aayy...e-eaat," he says in a softer tone. "Aaayy...m-musst...eaat."

"N-noo. Noo...eaat...n-nott...El..sa." I insist, grabbing at his chest to keep him back.

I can see by his movements that the agitation is returning. He moans before making a gesture with his hands like he's breaking something in half.

"Sh...shaarree?" He says; there's definitely an upper inflection of hopefulness there. I've returned to backing him up, we're closer to the exit now.

"N-noo," I shake my head and point in the direction of the exquisite shivering creature I left back in economy class. "Noo...k-keeep...h-herr...s-saafee."

I stop short as K twists his head slightly at the declaration. His eyes flicker with a sudden understanding. "W-whhaat...d-diiddd...y-youu...eaaat?"

I'm pretty sure I can feel my eyes widen as that question floats into the air. I whip my head behind me to see if Elsa heard that. Because that's not what happened. I mean, yeah it happened. But that's not why...it's not!

Elsa hadn't moved from the spot she was thrown into. I can just make out the top of her head and the shine of her eyes in the fading light. With a strained grunt I push K out of the way and smack at the switch on the wall. The dim illumination will hopefully put her more at ease. I mean, surely being stuck in a lit plane with two zombies is much more preferable to being stuck in a _dark_ plane with two zombies.

Am I right?

I motion for K to go into the cockpit. "In...heerree..n-noww," I grumble.

I turn back to Elsa and begin vigorously smacking K in the face to attempt an introduction. His lower jaw twitches from side to side.

"Hhhrrrnnnnnnnaaagggghhhhhh," K protests, looking like he wants to bite me or shove me, or both.

"T-thiss...Kaayy...El..sa," I explain. "N-neeed...taalk...t-to...Kaay. Y-yoou...staayyy."

She blinks and I'm not really sure if that's an affirmative response, but I think she's beginning to understand me now...at least she seems to be listening.

"Staaayyy...h-herre," I reiterate anyway, just in case she missed it. I pause for another moment, searching for a word that might bring her some extra comfort. "Y-you..re..ookaay...pre..tty."

With that, K grunts and stumbles into the cockpit. I follow, shutting the door behind us. A pregnant silence follows as he turns to face me. And when he finally does speak, his voice is much softer than usual.

"Wh-whaat...d-doing...Aaay?"

Of all the answers I had prepared for this I...oh who the fuck am I kidding? I didn't prepare! I don't have answers! I have no idea what I'm doing anymore! So here comes the tried and true fallback...

I look up at him and shrug my shoulders, gnawing at my bottom lip.

"Y-yoouu...eaat...b-braainns?"

My god this questionnaire is a minefield. I need to be on my toes here.

I shrug again.

"AAAAAAAaaaayyyyyy!" K yells. My name echoes against the panels in the cramped hull.

"W-whaaaaaaat?" I whine, before slumping down into the captain's chair. I lean my chin on my rotted knuckles. I don't know what to say to him. Justification is exhausting for Zombies.

"Aaaayyyy...eaatt...braainnnss!" He says, and this time it's not a question.

"Nooooo." I say, before adding, "Y-yeeeeessss," as an afterthought.

"B-braainnss...mem..orrieess...m-maakee...y-youu...diff...erent," He explains. Great. He's going into his 'wise, sagely living corpse' mode.

"N-noo...diff..erent. El..sa...diff..erent. N-not...f-foood." I reply, spinning in the chair to face him.

"W-whaat...iss...El...sa?"

I can't answer that either. I don't know. Elsa is just...important. Valuable. Everything that's been missing from my existence. Mine.

And so, here comes the shrug.

"EL..SAA...HU..MANN!" K roars. "L-liv..ing...breeaathingg..."

"_Beautiful," _My mind begins to drift. "_Powerful." _There were so many words that could describe her.

"Daan..gerous!" He finishes with a growl.

Well that just shut my thought process down cold.

Pfft...dangerous? She wasn't the one that had him lifted up over her head, choking the life out of him, while screaming about food and eating a few moments ago.

"W-we...k-kill...we...eaat...o-orr...w-we...d-diee. H-huuman...w-will...ki..ll...y-youu...Aay."

I can't exactly tell if I'm doing this right, but I hope he can see the very deep eye roll I'm giving to that last statement.

"Lit...tle...l-laatee...fforr..th-thaat," I retort with as much sarcasm as my brain is able to emote. It's not a lot, unfortunately, but by the look on his face I don't think it's entirely lost on him.

K crosses his arms. That's not a particularly easy feat for a zombie...rather impressive actually, and leans his bodyweight on one leg.

"Aaayyy...knoowwss...w-whaat...Kaayy...meaanns...," he exasperates, groaning his equivalent of a long suffering sigh, before pointing at the black oozing knife-shaped hole in the center of my chest.

Oh...well yeah, there's that, and the other one but...that was before. She was scared, that's all. Things between us are different now. Or at least they were until K's dead-ass showed up. Elsa could have killed me when I...blanked out back there. But, she didn't. She stayed. She stayed with me.

And I need to stay with Elsa.

Sliding out of the chair I shamble past K to get to the door of the cockpit.

"El..saa...t-trusst...Aaay," I tell him as I turn the latch and push it open. "Aaay...knowww...w-whaat...Aaaayy...d-dooing!"

"W-whaat...iss...Aaay...d-dooing?" His voice follows me as I stumble back into the cockpit.

"K..eep...h-her...saafe," I reply, pointing towards the back of the plane which is...now vacant.

"K-keep..._w-whoo_...saafe?" K asks when he comes to a stop beside me.

We turn and look at the hatch, opened wide, as a breeze blows it back on its hinges. Outside, in the darkness, a deep chorus of howls ring out into the night. The plane is completely empty...save for two dead idiots.

"El...saa?" I say, my eyes getting huge and...concerned? Is that what eyes do?

The howls are growing louder.

"EL..SA!"


End file.
